


Counterparts

by LoveManyTrustFew55



Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Love, Romance, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveManyTrustFew55/pseuds/LoveManyTrustFew55
Summary: "He’s the person I’d ask, 'How are you handling this? Are you all right?' We were in sync, even if we were filming on opposite sides of the world."The 2020 Golden Globes find Kit and Emilia treading the waters of a new relationship and a new life together after denying their true feelings for one another for too long. Will the surprises life has thrown them along the way bring them closer together, or drive them apart?





	1. From LHR to LAX

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first RPF (although not my first fanfic) I've ever felt compelled to write, but I thought I would give it a go. I hope you enjoy it!

“ _Christ_ ,” Emilia swore as she saw the first camera and instinctively pulled her black coat around her and readjusted her purse.

 

“Happy to be back in LA?” Kit asked from under the brim of his flat cap. His tone was light and sarcastic, but even so, he tightened his grip on her hand in a reassuring way.

 

“I just want to be home.”

 

“Soon enough. The car is just through the doors.”

 

 _Home_ wasn’t home. Not really. Though she owned a house in Venice, she doubted LA would ever truly feel like home and maybe that was for the best.   _Home_ was where they’d just come from, her house in Islington, where they were able to spend a few idyllic weeks for Christmastime. There was no place she would rather be around the holidays than London and they had stayed tucked away for most of it, spending time with family and friends and making it out to the theater on more than a few occasions, but especially on his birthday. She had cooked dinner for him and baked him a cake even though he told her not to make a fuss. But now duty, and the Golden Globes called and so they left London early that afternoon for Los Angeles.

 

The black SUV was just through a pair of sliding glass doors, but once they stepped out of the airport there would surely be more cameras and questions. It was the questions she hated the most. It was easy enough to put her sunglasses on and hide behind a smile, but sometimes she couldn’t keep her face from reacting to the questions they asked. They were so personal, so probing…

 

 _And it’s none of their goddamn business_ , she thought as the airport attendant pushed the cart of their luggage ahead of them.

 

Kit had ribbed her for packing three suitcases when he only had one, but they were going to be in LA for nearly three weeks.

 

“We can’t all wear tight little jeans and black tshirts everywhere,” she had fired back at him.

 

_Flash...click....Flash...click!_

 

“Emilia! Kit!”

 

“How long have the two of you been an item?”

 

“Were you seeing him while he was still married to Rose?”

 

“How does it feel to break up a marriage?”

 

Kit released her hand and moved his hand firmly to her back propelling her feet forward and guiding her through the open door of the SUV. He climbed in after her and slammed the door shut before running his hand through his hair through his short curls. Once her assistant closed the passenger door, the driver pulled away from the curb.

 

She felt numb. This was one of the reasons they had not been back to LA since they left after the premier of _Last Christmas_ in November. Although rumors had swirled about the two of them after the Emmys, his first public appearance since he had filed for divorce in June, they removed all doubt when he had accompanied her to the premier although they refused to answer any questions about the nature of their relationship. Neither of them ever cared to discuss their personal, romantic lives with reporters. She never paid much attention to online gossip, but it was nearly impossible to not read the headlines splashed across the rag magazines at the airports or listen to the onslaught of questions thrown their way by paparazzi.

 

“Em,” Kit said softly, placing his hand on her knee.

 

“I’m fine,” she lied.

 

“Water?” he asked, offering her a bottle. She knew that he saw through her lie, he always could. Instead of calling her out, he offered her comfort in other ways. He wasn’t simply asking if she needed water. He was taking care of her.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She took the bottle of water and took a long sip. She had the beginnings of a headache and she stretched her neck from side to side to help alleviate it. It could’ve been caused by a number of factors, the long flight, the lack of fresh air, dehydration, stress, anything really. She passed the water back to him and leaned back against the headrest.

 

“What time is it?” she asked. She could have glanced at her own phone or opened her eyes to peer at the car’s display, but she felt too lethargic for that.

 

“Just after 6.”

 

“I just want to sleep.”

 

“I’ll order some food so it’s ready as soon as we get there. What are you hungry for?”

 

“Anything,” she replied and heard him groan. She smiled at that. “ _You_ pick.”

 

“I hate when you make me pick.”

 

“I know. That’s why I’m making you pick.”

 

“You’re wicked.”

 

“You love it,” she said, opening one eye to catch a glimpse of him. He leaned over and pressed his lips close to her ear.

 

“I do,” he replied and kissed her neck just below her ear.

 

“Get Chinese. You know, the spicy stuff I like.”

 

* * *

 

He began to open the boxes of takeout and spread them out across the counter as Emilia went over her schedule for dress fittings for the next day and for her hair and makeup before the Globes for Sunday afternoon. It was times like those that made him glad that he just needed a shower, a beard trim, and a tux.

 

Surveying the spread of food laid before him, it looked as if they had enough for five people, not just two. Instinctively he reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, but found it empty. _Old habits die hard,_ he thought. Months ago, he would have passed the time with a smoke, it helped calm him down and the day so far had been stressful enough. As it was, he had not touched a cigarette since the end of August and gave up his vape pen by September. It had been even longer since he had a drop of alcohol.

 

“Thanks for everything. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he heard Emilia say to her assistant as she closed the door and locked it.

 

“Free at last?” he asked when she walked back into the kitchen.

 

“For tonight at least. I text my mum to let her know we were in and home. I’ll call her in the morning.”

 

“You need to eat something.”

 

“How many people are we feeding tonight?” she asked as she eyed the amount of food.

 

“Well, there’s one,” he said pointing to himself before standing behind her and brushing her short brown hair away from her neck and kissing it just above her collar. “Two.”

 

His hands slid from the waist of her jeans, under the loose cream sweater and camisole she wore to caress the warm skin of her slightly rounded belly.

 

“Three,” she finished for him and covered his hands with her own. He hugged her tighter when she leaned into him. “And at least two of us are tired.”

 

“I know, make that three” he frowned. “Maybe you’ll get a second wind once you eat.”

 

“Once I eat, I’m going to take a nice long shower and wash the plane off of me and then probably tuck in for the night.”

 

They ate at the stools around the kitchen counter. Every so often she would steal something off his plate and he would pretend to be annoyed about it. He convinced her to leave the washing up to him while she went to the bedroom to unpack her bags. When he heard the tap in the master bath start, he put a kettle on to boil and set to work unpacking his own bag in the bedroom.  He had just finished putting his clothes away and changing into a pair of sweatpants when he heard her melodious voice drifting through the open door.

 

_“And if I tried, I still couldn't hide my love for you_

_You ought to know, for haven't I told you so_

_A million or more times?_

_You went away and my heart went with you_

_I speak your name in my ev'ry prayer_

_If there is some other way to prove that I love you_

_I swear I don't know how_

_You'll never know if you don’t know now.”_

 

He was tempted to interrupt her, to strip off his own clothes and join her in the shower, but just as he was about to pull his shirt over his head he heard the kettle begin to whistle.

 

 _“Damn_ ,” Kit swore as he pulled the hem of his shirt down and walked back to the kitchen.

 

He put the kettle and two cups onto a tray along with a few fortune cookies that had come with their takeout and carried it all to the coffee table. Although it wasn’t too chilly in the house, he turned on the fireplace and eased onto the sofa. He leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes.

 

“You’re not asleep already, are you?” Emilia asked as she walked into the room. Before he even opened his eyes, he could smell her shampoo and lotion. He loved that smell, it was practically ingrained into his memory. It reminded him of home of _her_ \- of Iceland, Belfast, Spain, and more recently, Greece.

 

“Not just yet,” he smiled. She was wearing lavender cotton sleep pants, a black tank top that fit more snugly than it used to and her silk robe thrown over her shoulders. “Thought you might want a cuppa.”

 

“You got that right.”

 

She sat on the edge of the sofa and set her book down. It was well-worn and the pages were a mixture of dog-eared and post-it noted, her writing filling up the margins. It was something she was planning to adapt to the screen, one of the novels she had optioned months ago, and her latest passion project.  Motioning for him to stay put, she poured a cup for both of them and handed one to him before sitting back and tucking her feet up under her. Her teacup clinked against his and she took a sip, humming in satisfaction as she so often did.

 

“Here’s to my beautiful _double_ nominee,” he said, raising his cup to her.

 

“Stop,” she shook her head and he couldn’t help but notice how she began to turn a shade of pink. “You act like you’re not nominated, too.”

 

“But I’m not going to win. So I’m counting on you, Em and you deserve it.”

 

“You don’t know that. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. You know that, right? I swear you kept me sane during filming.”

 

“So you tell me.”

 

“You don’t believe me?” she asked, quirking at eyebrow at him.

 

“I believe you,” he replied sincerely.

 

“I wouldn’t want to do _any_  of this without you, Kit.”

 

“D’you know what I think?”

 

“I’d love to.”

 

“We need to open our fortune cookies.”

 

She laughed loudly and allowed him to take her cup from her and place it back on the tray. He unwrapped two cookies and handed one to her while he cracked into his own.

 

“What’s yours say?” she asked, eating a piece of her cookie.

 

“ _Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life,_ ” he read aloud. “Yours?”

 

“ _Someone is speaking well of you_. Hmmm...we’ll see how long that lasts after Sunday.”

 

“Hey…”

 

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” she asked suddenly and his heart jumped into his throat.

 

“Wha...What? A mistake about what?”

 

“A mistake about announcing this to the world on Sunday? My dress will make it pretty obvious that I’m pregnant.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good?”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Good. We’re not making a statement or taking questions about it from the press. Do you like the dress?”

 

“I love it.”

 

“Then everyone else can fuck right off. I’ve seen you in it and you look beautiful.”

 

“Do I, Mr. Harington?” she asked, resting her head on his arm that was lying on the back of the sofa. She untucked her legs and stretched them across his lap.

 

“You do...and sexy,” he added, leaning in so his face was mere inches away from hers. He brushed the backs of his knuckles across her cheek. Her hair was still damp when he threaded his fingers through it and brushed his lips over hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap so that he could deepen their kiss. She moaned into his mouth when one of his warm hands found their way under her tank top to caress her back.

 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Emilia whispered when she pulled back, leaving him with his eyes closed and his lips still pursed for a moment.

 

“Should I carry you to bed now, or wait for you to fall asleep on me in ten minutes?”

 

“If you carry me now, your very worn out girlfriend will be able to show her gratitude with a kiss or several. But if you wait-.”

 

“Now it is,” Kit replied, shifting her enough so he could scoop her up and stand from the sofa.

 

“What about the dishes?”

 

“I’ll tidy them up in the morning. They can wait.”


	2. Flashbacks and Flashbulbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit reflects back on the time he spent in Greece with Emilia during the summer of 2019. Things heat up in the shower. Emilia and Kit get ready to face the red carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you SO much for the overwhelming response for chapter one. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. You'll find chapter two is a bit longer, closer to what I'm used to writing for longer fics. I hope you enjoy!

He woke up first, as he usually did. Being a morning person by nature, he enjoyed the quiet serenity of the early hours before anyone else was up.  Emilia was still sleeping soundly next to him, her forehead pressed against his shoulder and her hand resting on his forearm under the covers. Although the curtains were drawn, Kit could see that the sun was not yet fully up when he checked his phone and saw that it was just before six o’clock. He gently pulled his arm away from her and stilled for a moment to be sure she stayed asleep before swinging his legs off the side of the bed and sitting up.

 

His sweatpants were laying across the chair where he had left them the night before and he pulled them on along with a t-shirt and flannel. He rummaged around in the dark through his satchel until he found his black, leather-bound notebook and a pen. Checking one last time to make sure she was still asleep, he left the bedroom and trudged through the living room and kitchen and let himself out onto the back patio.

 

He wanted a cigarette. Still. After months and months, he still craved them. He missed the taste and the smell, the way it helped calm his nerves and the feel of one tucked between his fingers. But there was something he craved more now. Time. Time and longevity of his career. Time with Emilia. Time with their family. Every day he smoked, he knew the chances of enjoying all of that could slip away. He knew she hated the fact that he smoked. She would give him a hard time about it and casually ask him to quit. At times, she would even challenge him or try to snatch the cigarette from his mouth before he ever had a chance to light it. But when he decided to quit, she had not asked him to, hadn’t even suggested it to him. The more time he spent with her, the less time he wanted to spend out on a patio or on a balcony puffing on a cigarette.

 

Opening the notebook, Kit ran his hand down the crease until it lay flat on the table. He clicked his pen and stuck the end between his teeth and closed his eyes. After a deep inhale and exhale he began to write.

 

_4 Jan. 2020_

 

_Things I’m anxious about:_

  1.   _T_ _ _he mass of people at the Globes.__
  2. _Free alcohol_
  3. _Em worrying so much about me she won’t enjoy herself._
  4. _Punching someone_



 

_Things I’m grateful for:_

  1.   _ _Em__
  2. _BCH_
  3. _7 months 5 days_
  4. _Sunshine in Jan._



 

He read over his list and smiled. Every day, first thing in the morning, he made two very similar lists, always starting with people or events that were the cause of his worry and anxiety. Sometimes, they were small problems, sometimes, they were much bigger ones that weighed and loomed large over him for days or weeks at a time. But his second list...his second list always made the first list seem easier to manage, easier to handle, easier to bear.

 

Emilia was always at the top of this list. He was grateful every single damn day that she had been a constant source of strength and support, even when he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He was grateful for her love, because to be loved by Emilia was like being bathed in warm sunlight. It could be easy and gentle and it could be intense and overpowering. It was a constant when so much of his life seemed like chaos.

 

Seven months and five days was the length of time he’d been sober, something he was proud of and scared to lose. He had worked hard to get to that point. Every day was difficult, but he had surrounded himself with good people, people who cared about him and his health- both mental and physical. Seven months and five days meant cutting ties with close friends he had known for years. It meant taking a break from acting, but at the end of February he would return to the stage and he could not be more thrilled.

 

 _BCH._ He traced over the letters with his pen again, causing them to appear slightly bolder than the rest of the list. Like Em, this had been another constant on his list for some months now, since just before the Emmys in September. The letters had become a nickname of sorts, standing for Baby Clarke-Harington. They had decided not to find out what they were having. As Emilia put it, there were so few _good_ surprises in life and they had both had their fair share of bad surprises. Finding out about BCH had been a shock, to be sure, but once he wrapped his head around it he was more excited than he could have imagined.

 

_“I need to run to the chemist’s,” Emilia said as she exited the bathroom, her suntanned face wan._

 

_“Still not feeling great?” he asked, looking up from the book he was reading. They had been on the island of Crete for just over two weeks and for the past week she had not been well. It was never enough to keep them from sightseeing or spending time on the beach, but it was enough to be inconvenient._

 

_“I’m late.”_

 

_He was naive- or oblivious- enough to check his watch, thinking they were about to miss out on something they had planned earlier._

 

_“Late for what?”_

 

 _“No, Kit,” she shook her head and chewed on her bottom lip. “_ _I’m_ _late. My period should’ve started five days ago.”_

 

_His mouth went dry and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. They had been anything but consistently careful since they reunited at her home in London the previous month and there had been plenty of occasions between then and now when it could have happened. He must have had a dumbfounded look on his face because Emilia rolled her eyes as she reached for her purse._

 

_“You can close your mouth, you know.”_

 

_“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, pushing himself out of the chair and walking over to her. His hand stopped hers as she frantically rummaged through her bag for something. “Em...I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say.”_

 

_“What are we going to do?” she whispered._

 

_“We’ll figure it out.”_

 

_“If I’m pregnant. Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m just thrown off from stress or something.”_

 

_“Have you been stressed lately?”_

 

_“...No. Not at all. Not since we arrived here, that’s for sure.”_

 

_“Do you want me to go with you?”_

 

_“No, it’s alright. We’ve been able to keep a really low profile here. With our luck we’d get spotted by someone who knew us while I was checking out.”_

 

_“Hang on a minute, take this.”_

 

_Kit stepped into the bedroom and found his baseball cap. She had stolen it from him last year when they’d finished filming and he had found it hanging on the back door of her house. He adjusted it and placed it on her head over her messy ponytail._

 

_“There,” he said. “Not you’re incognito.”_

 

_“I know what you’re trying to do,” Em smiled as she put her oversized sunglasses on._

 

_“Is it working?”_

 

_“Maybe a little.”_

 

_A half hour later they were sitting next to each other on the small bench at the foot of the bed, staring at the timer on his phone as it slowly counted down towards zero. It was the longest three minutes of his life. When half of the time had expired, he reached over and took her small hand in his. Even though they were both watching the phone, she still jumped when the timer went off and tried to extricate her hand from his._

 

_“Hey,” he said, holding on just a bit longer. “No matter what, it’s going to be okay.”_

 

_She nodded wordlessly and disappeared into the bathroom, reemerging moments later with the test in her hand._

 

_“It’s positive,” her voice cracked. “I’m pregnant.”_

 

_Kit was unable to control his reaction to the results. The timing could not have been worse. He had filed for divorce two months ago without any clear answer about when it would be finalized. Rumors had been swirling since early spring that the two of them were involved in some kind of affair. Try as they might to ignore such news, it was impossible to be completely shut off from it. There were absolutely a million and one reasons why this should be something bad, something inconvenient. In the midst of all of that running at light speed through his mind, a smile spread across his face._

 

_“Okay,” he said slowly, standing from the bench._

 

_“Okay?” she asked. “Okay? How are you being so calm about this? What are we going to do? I start filming in three weeks. Then we have the Emmys, then more filming, the press tour for Last Christmas, who knows when your bloody divorce will be finalized. The timing is so fucked.”_

 

_“Emilia, just stop for a second. Take a deep breath,” he instructed, breathing in a out a few times until she followed suit. “Forget about the complications.”_

 

_“But I can’t I have to-.”_

 

 _“_ _Forget_ _about them for now and without thinking about them, ask yourself if this makes you happy. Is this something you want?”_

 

_“Yes,” she answered almost immediately. “Of course it is.”_

 

_“Then we’ll figure it out.”_

 

_“We’ll take it slow, we said,” Emilia remembered. “No big changes, we said.”_

 

_“We did say that,” Kit nodded. “But I’ve been happier in the last month than I have been in a long time.”_

 

_“This isn’t going to be easy.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“I’m going to get huge.”_

 

_“Impossible.”_

 

_“I’m going to make you change messy nappies sometimes.”_

 

_“I can’t wait.”_

 

_“We’re really doing this…”_

 

_“We are.”_

 

_“We’re having a baby.”_

 

_“Yeah,” he grinned and brought his lips close to her ear as he placed his hands on her lips, grazing this thumbs over her stomach. “We’re having a baby.”_

 

* * *

 

She felt Kit pull away from her and sit up in bed. Her eyes opened just a crack to see the muscles in his back shift and move and part of her wanted to reach out her hand to touch him. Another part of her- the part that won out- wanted to stay perfectly cocooned under the blankets in bed and sleep for just a little bit longer. Emilia knew that he craved the peaceful serenity of a quiet morning and so she let him be.

 

He was trying so hard to be quiet, he always did, but she was a light sleeper and her eyes opened again when she heard him rummaging around in the kitchen after he’d come back inside. As she listened, Emilia could tell exactly what he was doing. It was the same routine he did at home in Islington. He would come in from a run or the gym and get everything set out for breakfast before hopping into the shower. She heard him filling the kettle, opening and closing the fridge, and setting out plates. When his footfalls came back towards the bedroom, she closed her eyes again, letting him believe she was still asleep until she heard the shower turn on.

 

Soon, the urge to use the loo outweighed her desire to stay in bed. She padded into the bathroom and tapped her fingers on the glass shower door as she walked past it on her way to the toilet.

“Did I wake you?” Kit asked loud enough to be heard over the noise.

 

“I was already awake,” she replied. She almost decided to flush, to give him a surprise jolt of cool water, but chose not to. Instead she kicked aside her pyjama pants and took off her tank top.

 

His back was to her while he washed the shampoo from his hair when she opened the door and stepped into the steamy shower.

 

“Didn’t you shower last night?” he asked, moving to the side so she could stand under the stream of warm water.

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

His eyes looked her up and down as she tilted her back to wet her hair.

 

“You’re staring,” she teased.

 

“Can’t help it. You don’t seem to mind.”

 

“I did at the beginning...and then when my tits got bigger and then again when I couldn’t fit into my jeans. But then you’d look at me like _that_ and I wouldn’t feel as bad.”

 

“You’re fucking gorgeous. Always. Everyday, maybe even more so now.”

 

“Kinky,” Emilia grinned.

 

“You _know_ what I mean.”

 

“I do.”

 

She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, pressing her lips against his. His body responded quickly, his hands taking hold of her hips and his cock already pressing against her. Emilia reached between their bodies to stroke his thick length, causing him to moan into her mouth. His own fingers were not content to be idle, opting instead to explore and caress her breasts until they ached and tingled from the attention he paid them. He was sucking lightly on her pulse point when she tugged on his hair.

 

“Don’t leave a mark,” she warned. “I don’t want Kate to have to cover it up tomorrow.”

 

“Can I leave one where it _won’t_ be seen?” he asked as he ran the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear.

 

“Maybe later.”

 

She pushed him back in the large shower until he was seated on the bench, his back pressed against the cool tile. Steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders, she climbed up and straddled his lap.  

 

He cradled her arse as she positioned his cock at her entrance and eased down on it in one fluid motion. Lips crashed together, her fingers threaded through his tangled mess of wet curls while she rolled her hips slowly. A low, guttural moan emanated from the back of his throat when she lifted herself up, leaving just his tip inside, before dropping back down, driving him further into her. She marveled sometimes at how perfectly their bodies fit together, how in sync they were. His strong arms continued to help her moved over him until she felt her walls beginning to clench around him.

 

“Fuck,” she said, biting into his shoulder as his hips jutted up off the bench, the angle of his thrusts now putting a more direct pressure against her clit.

 

“Oh so _you_ get to leave a mark?”

 

“Shut u-” she began, but could not finish her sentence as her climax took hold of her and spread through her entire body, coaxing Kit over the edge not long after.

 

The heat and steam from the shower was suddenly overwhelming, her legs left feeling like jelly to the point that she was unsure of her ability to stand up on them. As if he sensed it, Kit wrapped his arms around her tightly and stood up, letting her legs fall down to the floor and find their bearings.

 

“You alright?” he asked, dropping a kiss to her temple.

 

“Mmmhmmm,” she nodded. Her fingers pressed into his biceps and she rested her head against his chest.

 

“Maybe you need a bench in the shower back home…”

 

“Noted.”

 

“How about some breakfast?”

 

“I’d love some.”

 

* * *

 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Nathalie said from over the top of her menu. They had just spent the early afternoon getting facials and having their final dress fittings to make sure everything was just right. Now they were enjoying a late lunch.

 

“I know, we laid pretty low over the holidays for obvious reasons,” Emilia replied.

 

“How’s everything with _that_.”

 

“Really good actually. I don’t feel like death warmed up anymore, so that’s a huge plus.”

 

“Cheers to that. Two more events and then you can relax a bit, yeah?”

 

“Honestly, I would have been fine with being done with these obligations after the Emmys. Drawing it out longer just rehashes a lot of things I’d rather move on from.”

 

“Did you write your speech yet?”

 

“Definitely not,” Emilia guffawed. “I’m not going to win.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“Olivia. Sandra, Elisabeth. That’s why.”

 

“You always sell yourself short.”

 

“I’m being realistic.”

 

“You won a bloody Emmy.”

 

“Because half of my competition wasn’t eligible.”

 

“You won a fucking Emmy because you’re brilliant, Emilia. Look, this is the only joy I can take from that shit season, alright? Write a damn speech and thank me later.”

 

“I’ll make you a deal. _If_ I win, I’ll say you were right and I should’ve listened to you in my speech.”

 

“You’ve got a deal.”

 

* * *

 

“Turn this way,” Emilia’s makeup artist, Kate said. “The light is slightly better from this angle.”

 

Kit watched from his chair as she turned the opposite direction and posed while the pictures were taken. No doubt she would post a handful on Instagram later along with a litany of thank yous to the crew who helped put her together that afternoon. He was mesmerized by her, she made it all look so effortless, chatting and singing along to the playlist she had created the night before while they were sitting up reading in bed. It didn’t slip past him that she had included a number of Al Green and Marvin Gaye songs for him as well.

 

Emilia’s deep, plum colored dress had an iridescent quality to it so that it shimmered in the sunlight. It cut a simple, but dramatic silhouette that fit her height perfectly. The off-the-shoulder, sweetheart neckline accentuated her now ample breasts in a tasteful way and the bodice hugged her small, round belly enough for there to be no doubt that she was pregnant. Her chestnut tresses framed her face in finger waves and he was reminded of every classic Hollywood beauty who had ever graced the silver screen. Emilia took his breath away on a daily basis, but when she had emerged from the bedroom a few minutes earlier, she had nearly stopped his heart.  

 

“Kit,” she called, pulling him away from his thoughts. “Get your dapper arse over here and take a picture with me. Just one, I promise. I won’t even post it.”

 

She knew him so well and knew how much he disliked social media. She wasn’t over fond of it herself, but she enjoyed taking and sharing pictures. Some of his own work had appeared on her Instagram, most notably from when they were in Spain filming season seven.

 

“You can post it, if you want,” he told her as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket. “Wait just a minute.”

 

He retreated into the bedroom and reemerged with his own camera.

 

“I’ll take some with you if you let me take some of _just_ you, too.”

 

“When we’re done,” she smiled knowingly.

 

He handed his camera off to Kate and slid his arm around Emilia’s waist. It was difficult for him to tear his eyes away from her. She smelled as good as she looked and as Kate started to take pictures with Em’s phone he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

 

“You look radiant,” he whispered, squeezing her side lightly.

 

“You look incredibly handsome yourself,” she replied. She looked for a moment as if she was going to say more, but winked at him instead before turning back towards the camera.

 

“Do you want to look through these to make sure they’re alright before we head out?” Kate asked as she handed Emilia her phone and Kit his camera.

 

“We genuinely look really fucking awesome,” Emilia grinned as she swiped through. “Thanks again.”

 

“Ms. Clarke, you’re not finished yet,” Kit said holding up his camera. “You promised, remember?”

 

“Alright, Mr. Harington,” she sighed. “I’m ready for my closeup.”

 

He posed her in different ways, making use of the natural light that flooded into her house from the wall of windows. Some of his nerves about the ceremony and walking the red carpet began to slip away as he focused his lense only on Emilia.

 

“I’m not going to get to see any of these pictures, am I?”

 

“Maybe one or two.”

 

“The rest going into your personal spank bank?”

 

Kit merely grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows at her.

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Emilia’s assistant said as she popped her head around the corner. “The limo is about ten minutes away.”

 

“Thanks. Get over here, Kit. I want to take one last picture to send to my mum.”

 

She handed her phone off to him and cozied up next to him, being careful not to get makeup on his jacket.

 

“My arms aren’t _that_ much longer than yours,” he remarked as he held it out to take a selfie. “Ready?”

 

“No!” she exclaimed. “Pull a funny look. Do the Zoolander.”

 

Kit shook his head and laughed as he saw Emilia’s face on the screen contort into the signature serious eyes and pursed-lip _blue steel_ pose from the movie. He had half a mind to resist, but her mirth was infectious and he found himself following suit. Together, the two of them were able to hold their composure just long enough for him to snap a picture before they completely lost it.

 

Fifteen minutes later, they were tucked into the back of the limo, heading for the Beverly Hills Hilton, her fingers entwined between his own. The closer they got, the faster it felt like his heart was beating. He had accompanied her to the premier of Last Christmas as a guest, but they hadn’t arrived together, certainly not as a couple. There would be press, _loads_ of it, and interviews. Photographers everywhere. He wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t at all worried about himself. He didn’t care what they said or wrote about him. They’d had a field day with him over the past year. No. He didn’t care at all about that. He cared about _her_.

 

Emilia scrolled through her phone, seemingly immune to everything that was about to happen. She didn’t read anything that was written about her and neither did he, but they had publicists who cared very much about that _for_ them. Even if she didn’t read it herself, she was aware of it. She knew what was being said about her, the names she was being called and she ignored them. Kit wished it were so easy.

 

“Mum says we look like constipated models,” Emilia said, squeezing his hand. “But she said have a wonderful time and that we looked _smashing_ in the regular pics I sent. She’s going to live stream it.”

 

“Live stream it? It’s going to be three in the morning over there when it starts.”

 

“That’s what she said. I told her she didn’t have to stay up to watch it. You know how she is.”

 

He did. Jenny Clarke was a formidable woman. It was no wonder her daughter had the drive she did. Once upon a time, Emilia’s mother had scared Kit. She was one of the only people in the world whose approval he desperately sought and always felt he fell short of until recently. Last year, when he had been in Connecticut he had received a handwritten note from her that simple read: _Proud of you. -JC_

 

It was more than some people sent him and probably more than he felt like he deserved at the time as well. He had told Emilia as much one of the times she’d come to visit him.

 

“How’s Roxy?” Kit asked, knowing that her mother had undoubtedly sent along a picture of the pooch.

 

“Sleeping,” she said, showing him her phone.

 

They hit the line of cars that was typical when they attended such events. As the limo crawled along, he began to crane his neck to look out the tinted window.

 

“Hey,” Emilia said softly. She shifted in her seat to face him better. “No matter what happens out there, you’ve got me.”

 

“I know,” he replied, but he felt his smile falter.

 

“We don’t have to do interviews if you don’t want to. We can walk the carpet, take a few pictures and go inside. We don’t owe them any information about our personal lives.”

 

“We’ll play it by ear?”

 

She nodded. “But you’ve got _As You Like It_ on the horizon. That’s exciting! If you _want_ to talk about going back to the stage, you should.”

 

“I can’t wait to get back to London,” he confessed, resting his forehead against hers.

 

“Me, too. But I’m proud of you. Don’t forget that. Ever. So is everyone else at our table tonight. So fuck the world. We’ve got our family around us tonight.”

 

She pecked at his lips and then wiped at them with her thumb, pretending to rub lipstick off. Kit caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm.

 

“Thanks. I needed a pep talk.”

 

As the limo rolled up to the red carpet and came to a stop the driver came around to open the door for them. Kit slid out of the car first, buttoning his jacket and quickly surveying the throngs of people and flashbulbs. He wanted to dive right back into the limo when he turned and saw Emilia’s reassuring face as she scooted to the edge of the seat. He took a deep breath and extended his hand to her, which she graciously accepted. She rearranged her dress, making sure it fell just the right way before the were greeted by red carpet attendants from their publicists who would help them along the way. She handed off her purse and phone and waved towards the bleachers of fans, receiving a chorus of cheers in response.

 

“Kit?” she asked, waiting for him before she moved towards the carpet.

 

“I’m ready,” he nodded. He offered her his arm to take and they stepped onto the red carpet together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I googled what Emilia's house in Venice looks like for inspiration for the shower scene. ;)


	3. The 92nd Annual Golden Globes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit and Emilia walk the red carpet. Emilia reflects on an important gift. A winner is announced. A couple slips away. Words are exchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this taking a little longer than a week to update. I didn't think my weekend would end up being as busy as it was. Thank you for all of your kind and encouraging words. Special thanks to my Kimilia crew. You all know exactly who you are. Thanks to Ellie for the lovely moodboard! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

 

“Kit!” 

 

_ Flash! Flash!  _

 

“Emilia!” 

 

_ Flash! Flash!  _

 

Kit remembered Emilia telling him once that walking the red carpet was like taking on a role. She wasn’t herself when she walked it, she was someone else, a creation of her own imagination. Maybe that worked for someone who played one of the most powerful women on television,  but if he pretended to be Jon Snow he would only look broodier than he already felt. 

 

“Who are we tonight?” he asked through a smile and they posed for the mass of photographers. 

 

“Exiled royals who have just returned home after a long absence,” she replied. 

 

His eyes already stung from the flashbulbs. He supposed he would see stars every time he closed his eyes until well into the ceremony. They took pictures together and then they would separate just long enough for a few pictures apart before walking a few feet down the carpet and repeating the whole process. Kit trained his eyes just above the cameras to the bleachers of fans who had turned out to watch their favorite stars walk the carpet. They cheered and shouted and if they were disappointed in him, they certainly did not show it. He surveyed parts of the carpet for friends and managed to spy Sophie and Maisie walking arm in arm a bit ahead of them. 

 

“Just a few interviews we’d like you to hit if you’re up to it,” the attendant from Emilia’s publicist said as they walked on from the line of photographers. 

 

“I think I am,” she replied. “You?” 

 

“Let’s give it a go,” he agreed. 

 

“Great! Mario Lopez with Extra is first.”

 

“Your mum will be sorry she missed him.” 

 

“Jealous?” Emilia joked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

 

“Emilia, he’ll mostly be focusing on you and what it’s like to be a double nominee this year and I’m sure they’ll ask how it feels to be done with  _ Thrones _ ,” the attendant said. “Ready?” 

 

They nodded and waited at the bottom of the platform for the host to finish his interview a fellow HBO alum from Veep, Anna Chlumsky, exchanging pleasantries with her before climbing up the stairs. 

 

“I feel like I should get down on my knee!” Mario said exuberantly as he greeted them. 

 

“Well I certainly wouldn’t complain,” Emilia quipped. 

 

“I’m here with Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke,  _ both _ nominated for their portrayals in the final season of  _ Game of Thrones _ and Emilia, you’re  _ also _ nominated for your role in  _ Last Christmas _ . How does it feel to be a double nominee?” 

 

“Genuinely, genuinely shocking. When I say that it wasn’t even on my radar I’m being completely honest.” 

 

“I was floored when I found out that neither of you had been nominated for a Golden Globe before tonight. Kit, what were you doing when you found out?” 

 

“I wish I could say that I was doing something cool,” he said scratching at his beard. “But I think I was at the gym. I didn’t even have my phone on me at the time and when I took it out of the locker I had so many messages and about five missed calls from Emilia. I thought something might have been wrong.” 

 

That was one hundred percent true. He had not even been thinking about nominations when he left for the gym that afternoon. Emilia wasn’t the type of person to call his phone multiple times without a good reason and his mind immediately jumped to something being wrong with her or BCH. He was relieved to find out he was  _ just _ nominated for a Golden Globe. 

 

“ _ Game of Thrones _ has been such a global phenomenon where do you go from here?” 

 

“Someplace where no one ever tells me  _ You know nuthin’, Jon Snow _ ever ever again,” Kit joked and shook his head. 

 

“I imagine you get that all the time,” Mario added. 

 

“Yeah, it’s a bit weird actually because, by the time I actually process what they’ve said, I don’t have a chance to react to it or say anything back to them.”

 

“I never liked that line,” Emilia chimed in. “I don’t think Dany would agree, even after last season and everything that went down. She even tells Jon that he was right about things. I always saw Jon as a really thoughtful and introspective character. Boy gets a bad rap.” 

 

“I couldn’t agree more. Well I just have to say, that despite how the season ended, I thought you were both fantastic in every single scene. Best of luck to both of you tonight.” 

 

“Thank you so much,” she replied, taking Kit’s arm again as they walked down the stairs. 

 

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” he whispered to her. 

 

“He’s a dear. Mum really liked him when I brought her to the Emmys that one year. I think she was disappointed he was married though.” 

 

Next up was E! and Giulianna Rancic. They were told the questions would be more in the vein of questioning them about who they were wearing and Kit had to make a mental note to remember he was wearing a Tom Ford tuxedo that night, although he was certain they were more interested in what Emilia was wearing. 

 

“And joining me now, we have the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Emmy-winner and a double nominee tonight, Emilia Clarke and the devilishly handsome Kit Harington, also a nominee tonight,” Giulianna said and she looked them up and down. “I have to say that you are an absolutely stunning pair.” 

 

“Thank you,” Emilia replied, graciously ducking her head. 

 

“When I saw on the monitor, the two of you stepping out of the limo I think I audibly gasped. We’re about thirty minutes to the start of the ceremony, arrivals are wrapping up and I think you’re probably topping most of the best dressed lists, Emilia. Who are you wearing?” 

 

“This gorgeous Givenchy gown was designed for me by Claire Waight Keller and when I put it on, I absolutely loved it. It’s probably one of the more comfortable gowns I’ve worn on a carpet.” 

 

“Mr. Harington, you’re no fashion slouch tonight. Who are you wearing?” 

 

“This is a Tom Ford. I thought about getting a purple crushed velvet tux to match, but thought it might be a little too much.” 

 

“Somehow I think if anyone could pull it off, it would be you. I’m sure you get asked this a lot, but how does it feel, for you two, to be completely finished with  _ Game of Thrones _ ?” 

 

“I do get asked that quite a lot,” Emilia said, fielding the question first. “But I’ve had plenty of time to perfect my answer. I think it feels both fulfilling and freeing at the same time. We’ve essentially been done filming since the summer of 2018, so it’s been a minute.” 

 

“Yeah,” Kit continued. “We’ve been working on  _ Thrones  _ since 2009, essentially. It’s been a long time and there have been some really good times and some not so great times, a lot of challenges that I think have prepared us for the next phase.” 

 

“And by next phase, what do you have in the works? Any new projects?” 

 

“I’m going to be back in the theater at the end of February with a new modern take on Shakespeare’s  _ As You Like It. _ It’s one of his comedies and so I’m pretty excited to sink my teeth into that.” 

 

“I feel like fans don’t get you see your humorous side too often so I bet they’re in for a treat. How about you, Emilia?” 

 

“Kit’s a stitch because he doesn’t miss anything. He has this really dry wit. He’ll say something or deliver a line that is hilarious and he does it so effortlessly. I just wrapped a film in October that I think will be out later this year about the Elizabeth Barrett Browning so for now some rest and relaxation and a bit of writing.” 

 

“Well you both deserve a little bit of R&R after the past year, I’m sure. They’re telling me we’ve got to take a commercial break, but thank you so much and good luck tonight!” 

 

The interviews weren’t going as poorly as he thought they would. When they attended the Emmys he had skipped the interviews and the red carpet altogether, meeting Emilia and the rest of the cast inside. Some wounds were still fresh and healing and he had not wanted to be asked about his treatment, or his failed marriage, or his relationship with Emilia, or anything that came up. They had been back from Greece and she had started filming  _ Let Me Count the Ways _ when they made the trip to LA in September. Privacy was of the utmost importance, so much so that they had even traveled on separate flights so as not to draw attention to themselves. Years ago, they could travel together as friends and no one would think anything of it, but that wasn’t possible after he filed for divorce. 

 

Across the crowd, he spotted Richard, chatting with Taron Edgerton. He was tempted to tell Emilia to take the last interview on her own so he could run and meet up with them. He felt like he hadn’t seen Rich in ages and it would have been a welcome relief, but he couldn’t do that to her. They were in this together. She was helping him through this red carpet and he wanted to be by her side if anything happened. 

 

The final interview was with Entertainment Tonight. All of the entertainment reporters ran together in his head in a blur. It was hard for him to keep any of them straight, especially the Americans, but this woman stood out to him, although he couldn’t quite place it. 

 

“I have to say it’s a real treat to see the two of you together,” the young woman said. “It’s a bit surreal. I don’t know if you remember, but at the  _ Game of Thrones _ premiere in New York, I asked Emilia to-” 

 

“Oh my goodness, you asked me to leave a question for the person who came after me,” Emilia finished. Her memory was clearly better than his was. 

 

“And do you remember what the question was?” 

 

“I do! I told you to ask the next person what their favorite on set meal was.” 

 

_ That’s it! _ Kit thought as he started to laugh. 

 

“You’re laughing because you already know what I’m going to ask you.”

 

“I am,” he replied. “I said that my favorite meal was one of yours and then I had to run off.” 

 

Emilia covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed, her eyes growing small as they always did when she found something truly funny. 

 

“Months later, can we get some clarity to that comment, Kit?” 

 

“No, I think it’s quite funnier to leave it as it is.” 

 

“Fair enough, fair enough. You both look amazing tonight and amazingly  _ couple-y _ if I might say.” 

 

“Thank you,” Emilia replied and he could already tell by the tone in her voice that she was hoping the conversation was not heading where they did not want it to.

 

“Your look tonight is breathtaking, can you tell us about it?” 

 

“It’s Givenchy, designed by the incredible Claire Waight Keller.” 

 

“She’s designed for the Duchess of Suffolk, hasn’t she?” 

 

“She has!” 

 

“Was this year more difficult to find a dress than in the past?” 

 

“It was,” Emilia nodded. Kit saw her mind at work, expertly crafting a response. “This year brought with it certain... _ challenges _ as far as the dress was concerned, but also the shoes. I didn’t go as high this year as I normally would. My dear friend Emma Thompson has worn flats on the red carpet and told me they’re the way to go. I compromised and went in between. Dame Emma has a good six inches on me so she can get away with it. If I don’t wear some heels, I’m so damn short.” 

 

“What was it like working with a legend like Emma Thompson?” 

 

“When I tell you it was A-mazing, I truly mean that. You said it. She’s a legend, not just as an actress, but as a writer, something I aspire to be. So I spent a lot of time asking a lot of questions. I want to be like a sponge and just soak up all of her knowledge and wisdom.” 

 

Kit hoped his mouth wasn’t hanging open on camera, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the way she had navigated a question that was posed to get her to talk about the pregnancy and steered it back around into the realm of relevance. He thought himself a clever and capable man, but reporters and photographers unnerved him, especially when they poked and prodded at his personal life. 

 

“Did you just come up with that now?” he asked as they were ushered along the final stretch of the red carpet and close to the entrance of the Beverly Hills Hilton. 

 

“What?” 

 

“That answer.” 

 

“Oh fuck no. I knew they’d ask about the dress and I knew they would want to know about BCH. I’ve been practicing it for days in the shower.” 

 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

 

“How are you?” she asked, her voice a bit lower than it had been. “Doing okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” Kit replied honestly. “That actually wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Are we going to be the only sober ones here tonight?” 

 

“That’s a distinct possibility. Especially at our table.” 

 

_ Their  _ table consisted of four couples. Kit and Emilia, Peter and his wife Erica, Dan and his wife Andrea, and David and Amanda. Kit would have been more than happy to be seated at the other table with Sophie, Maisie, Gwen, John, Nathalie, Nikolaj, Conleth, and Liam. At least the would be next to everyone. No doubt there would be some seat swapping going on. 

 

“Well, look who finally made it inside the building,” a voice from behind them called, the accent thick and distinctively Scottish. 

 

Before Kit could even turn around, Richard had managed to wedge in between him and Emilia, slinging his arms over their shoulders as they walked towards the International Ballroom. 

 

“Good to see you, too,” Emilia said. 

 

“Might I just say, the two of you look disgustingly good together.” 

 

“You can say,” Kit replied. “But you’re not telling us anything we don’t already know.” 

 

Emilia waved to someone behind Kit and he had to crane his neck to see Emma Thompson along with some of her  _ Last Christmas  _ castmates like Henry and Michelle. She looked like she wanted to go say hello to them. He felt bad that she wasn’t able to sit at their table since they were sitting with the  _ Thrones  _ crew. 

 

“Go on and say hi,” he urged. “I promise we won’t get into trouble while you’re gone.” 

 

“Thanks! Rich, it was good to see you. We’ll catch up after?” 

 

“I’m counting on it. Maybe I’ll see you during the show. I’m presenting your award.” 

 

“Ha. I’ll see you at the after party then.” 

 

Richard waited until she was out of earshot before he turned towards Kit and shook his head. 

 

“Why does she do that to herself?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Sell herself short.” 

 

“Oh,” Kit shrugged. “I wish I knew. I’ve been telling her for weeks that she’s going to win. I think it’s a mix of her being too humble for her own good and reverse psychology. If she  _ tells _ herself she’s not going to win, she will win.” 

 

“Does that actually work?” Richard asked incredulously. 

 

“It worked for the Emmys.” 

 

“Touché.” 

 

“Can I ask you a favor?” 

 

“Of course. What’s up, mate?” 

 

“If Em wins would you make sure she makes it up the stairs alright?” 

 

“Do you have any reason to believe she might trip and fall?” Rich laughed. 

 

“No, not exactly. But she’s got on heels and a dress and she’ll be all excited while trying to navigate stairs. Look, I just don’t want anything to happen, right?” 

 

“Alright. If she wins, I’ll pretend to be chivalrous for a moment and lend her an arm.” 

 

* * *

 

Emilia pushed the food on her plate around. She had not eaten much of it, but she had little appetite. Her nerves had started to get the better of her as the show progressed. Kit had already lost his category, a loss that neither surprised nor bothered him. The show had also lost, another loss that didn’t seem to surprise anyone in the ballroom or at their table, but one that caused both David and Dan to order another bottle of champagne to be sent to their table. Although they had snagged various nominations, she and Peter were the only actors who managed to garner much buzz, mostly due in large part to their wins at the Emmys.

 

She reached for her water and took a sip, being careful not to drink too much. She’d already made one trip to the loo earlier on with Nat and she didn’t want to have to use it again until after her category was announced. Setting the glass back down, she caught Amanda’s eye across the table and offered the woman a smile. 

 

“Emilia,” she called out louder than she needed to. “We were so surprised to see your  _ news _ .” 

 

“It was just something we wanted to keep to ourselves for a little bit,” she replied and noticed Kit shift in his seat out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Mmm, I can understand why. The past six months have been complicated, haven’t they?” 

 

“Complicated? I don’t know about that. I’d say they’ve been pretty damn good. I won an Emmy in September, wrapped a movie in the fall, had a pretty big movie premier in November that’s  _ still _ in theaters, was doubly nominated tonight, and in a couple of weeks I’ll be able to kick back and relax a bit. I’d say the last six months have  _ eventful _ , but not complicated.” 

 

Amanda opened her mouth to respond when the music began to play, alerting everyone that the commercial break was over. She picked up her phone and pretended to be busy with it. No doubt she was firing off text messages to her  _ friends _ about the exchange of words that just happened. Emilia didn’t pay attention to much of what gossip sites said about her, but her publicist did and it had become common knowledge that David’s wife was behind some of the more egregious rumors. 

 

Award after award went by and Emilia began to play with the stack of rings on her right ring finger, her thumb worrying over one in particular.  It was simple and deceptively understated. A platinum infinity knot with half of the loops set with small diamonds so that it glistened, rather than looked gaudy. She hadn’t taken it off since the day Kit gave it to her in early November. 

 

_ “Kit! I’m going to be late,” she called as she rearranged the contents of her small clutch for the third time, hopelessly trying to make everything fit.  _

 

_ “Sorry,” he replied, jogging into the room in a grey suit with a black turtleneck underneath.  _

 

_ “The cars are going to be here any minute. You’re-.”  _

 

_ “I know, going in the first one and you’re going in the second one. We’ll arrive separately, but be seated together at the premier.”  _

 

_ “I sound crazy, don’t I?”  _

 

_ “You sound excited. This is your big night, love.”  _

 

_ “Thank you for coming with me, even if you’re not actually coming with me.”  _

 

_ “Happy to. Thank you for inviting me on this non-date date.”  _

 

_ Asking Kit to accompany her to the premier of Last Christmas had been a big step for both of them. Although he had been slowly but surely moving more and more of his things over to her house and sleeping there most nights, they still weren’t officially living together yet. They went out for dinner together or to the theater, but they had both managed to keep a low profile before they started seeing one another. There was no reason that shouldn’t have continued to be the case. Attending a movie premier together was an entirely different matter.  _

 

_ Being seen together at such a public event would surely set the wheels of the rumor mill in motion, but as her publicist noted, they would be controlling the narrative. If they didn’t make a public appearance before she started to really show then people who saw them together over the holidays might start spreading rumors around the internet.  _

 

_ “Kitten, you wear a turtleneck like no one I’ve ever seen before.”  _

 

_ “You look positively lovely, too,” Kit replied as he took in the sight of her in her red gown. “I did have something for you though. Before we leave.”  _

 

_ He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. Emilia felt her mouth go dry as he placed it on the counter and slid it over to her. She picked it up and hesitated for a moment.  _

 

_ “Kit…” she began until he held up his hand.  _

 

_ “It’s not  _ _ that _ _. Jesus, Em. I’d at least have the decency to get down on a knee or something. When I propose to you, I want to be a totally free man. Not just a free heart.”  _

 

_ It was not lost on Emilia that he had said  _ _ when _ _ and not  _ _ if _ _ he proposed. Despite the fact that his divorce was not yet finalized, they had both casually mentioned marriage in some form. She saw it as a sort of inevitability, not because of the baby, but because it was what should have happened all along. When the time was right, when they were both ready, they would get married in a small, private ceremony with their family and closest friends.  _

 

_ She opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring, a platinum band in the shape of an infinity knot. Half of the loop was studded with tiny diamonds and it shimmered as she tilted the box to remove the ring from its cushion. Kit held out his hand for it and she placed it onto his palm. He took her right hand and slid the band onto her ring finger before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.  _

 

_ “Just a little something to mark the occasion,” he said.  _

 

_ “It’s beautiful, but you shouldn’t have.”  _

 

_ “Why not?”  _

 

_ “I don’t know…”  _

 

_ “You’re so good to me, Emilia. I love you and I’m proud of you. Let me show you that. I can’t walk the red carpet with you, but at least there’s something from me going with you.”  _

 

_ “I love you, too,” she replied, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. “What I should’ve said was thank you. It’s perfect.”  _

 

Richard strode onto the stage to the theme from James Bond. Last month he was  _ finally _ announced as the next special agent. Something he had told them months ago, but not something he was able to announce publicly yet. Emilia felt her heart rate quicken and her hand instinctively reached for Kit’s. He squeezed it reassuringly and flashed her a smile. 

 

“Nervous?” he whispered. 

 

“Oh fuck yeah,” she replied. 

 

“And the Golden Globe goes to,” Richard said as he tore open the seal on the envelope. He broke out into a wide smile and looked over in her direction. “My good friend Emilia Clarke,  _ Game of Thrones _ !” 

 

Emilia heard her name called, but she could not wrap her mind around it enough to actually process the information for a few moments. She felt herself rise to her feet on somewhat unsteady legs as the wave of applause became evident from those around her. The whole crew from  _ Thrones _ was on their feet. Finally the reality of the situation dawned on her and she pulled Kit towards her for a kiss, mouthing the words  _ I love you _ to him before turning towards the stage and making her way through the sea of tables and chairs. 

 

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Richard was waiting for her halfway, extending a hand to help her up onto the stage. She had not realized she was shaking so badly until she took his hand. Upon reaching the microphone, she was handed the Golden Globe statue. It was a weighty thing, deceptively so considering the size of it. When she won the Emmy, she had expected its heft, but this statue seemed relatively compact in comparison. Gripping it tightly in her hand seemed to at least stop them from trembling so badly. 

 

“Thank you, Richard. You’re a real prince charming. You can be my bodyguard any day. Oh wow, there’s a literal clock counting down. Goodness. I promised my mum I wouldn’t curse on television. There are too many people to thank and I’ve come ill-prepared because I couldn’t have possibly hoped to win in the company of women I just love and admire so much. Thanks to the Hollywood Foreign Press for this award. Thank you to everyone at HBO and  _ Thrones _ . Dan and Dave for taking a chance on a girl who could dance the funky chicken. Thank you to George R R Martin for creating this amazing world we’ve all gotten to play in. To the producers and the crew who put in so many hours to make this season become a reality. My girls in the hair and makeup department who helped turn me into the Mother of Dragons every day. Thanks to my mum who always supports me and helps keep me grounded and last, but certainly not least-.” 

 

Emilia paused for a moment to collect herself as she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. 

 

“My darling, Kit. I share this with you. Acting opposite you day in and day out made me a better actress and a better person. I love you,” she finished. As the music began to play she started to walk away from the microphone and turned back to throw in one last comment. “Oh and Nathalie, you were right!” 

 

* * *

 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Emilia asked him.

 

“Looking at you like what?” Kit replied, shifting his gaze away from her to survey the crowd. 

 

Following the awards, they had moved on with much of the rest of the cast to the HBO after party at Circa 55, the restaurant and lounge. The best part about it was that it was part of the Beverly Hills Hilton complex so they didn’t have to travel from one venue to another. 

 

Em was seated on his lap, although there were more than enough chairs at the party. They had tucked themselves away after spending the first hour mingling amongst friends and other guests. He knew that part of the reason she wanted to be away in their own world was to keep his mind off of the freely flowing booze and the smell of cigarettes that occasionally wafted through the door. Instead, all he could smell was her perfume; all he cared to really see was her. 

  
  


She leaned into him and whispered into his ear. “Looking at me like you want to rip my dress off and have your way with me.” 

 

“Ahhh,” he nodded, covering her hand with his own. He traced over her infinity knot ring and noticed goosebumps spread across her arm. “That might be because I want nothing more than 

to rip your dress off and have my way with you.” 

 

“Kit!” 

 

“What can I say? I’ve wanted you ever since we stepped off the red carpet.” 

 

It was true. There had always been something about her quiet confidence that stoked a fire within him. This night was no exception. He was exceedingly proud of her and her accomplishments and the way she handled every question thrown her way after her win with poise and grace. Emilia Clarke didn’t  _ need _ him. She didn’t need him for his fame or his money. She didn’t need him for his status. 

 

No, she didn’t need him, but every day, by some miraculous twist of fate, she chose to be with him. To love him and to allow herself to be loved by him. 

 

“We  _ can’t _ ,” she protested even though her eyes twinkled with lust. 

 

“We absolutely can.” 

 

“Where?” 

 

“Is that a yes?” 

 

“ _ Where _ ?” 

 

“Just on the other side of the pool there is a block of private changing stalls.” 

 

“Did you scope this out already?” 

 

“No,” he lied. “...Maybe.” 

 

“You did!” Emilia squealed and slapped his shoulder. 

 

“Shall we?” 

 

He was a bit surprised when she hopped off his lap and let him lead her out of the restaurant and out onto the pool patio. Quietly, they slipped past the people outside until they were far enough away from the party that they weren’t noticed when they slipped into one of the changing stalls around the cabana. 

 

Kit’s mouth was on hers as soon as he closed the door behind them, her body pressing his into the wall. Her hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it, tossing it across a chair without breaking the kiss. He felt her tug at his bow tie next as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, begging for entrance which she readily granted. Emilia palmed him through his tuxedo pants and he groaned into her mouth before stopping her from going any further. 

 

“What?” she asked, confused by his actions. 

 

“Tonight’s about you, love,” he whispered into her ear as he squeezed her arse.

 

He bunched the fabric of her dressed in his fists and began to hike it higher up her legs until he was able to slip his hands between her thighs. She held her skirts out of the way and pulled him by the collar back down into a searing kiss. When he moved her lacy panties to the side and dipped a finger into her folds she bit playfully into his bottom lip. 

 

“Sit,” he instructed when they broke apart for air. He nodded towards the chair he had haphazardly tossed his jacket onto. She draped it over the back before settling into it. 

 

“Wait a sec,” she said, wriggling around and lifting her hips enough to push her thong down her legs. 

 

Kit kissed her bare knee as he took hold of the fabric and pulled them down the rest of the way. He hooked her legs up and over his shoulders and scooted her so she was almost reclined in the chair, her backside on the very edge of the seat. He continued to kiss his way along her inner thighs until he reached her lower lips. Parting them, he looked up at her while he teased her clit with his middle finger and smirked when he saw her bite her lip as her eyes fluttered shut. 

 

“Christ, Em,” he swore. “You’re wet and I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

 

“So what are you waiting for?” she began to say, but the last few words sounded as if they were caught in the back of her throat as he eased his finger into her core. 

 

“You were saying?” 

 

_ “Fuck.”  _

 

Emilia had a filthy mind and mouth at times and he loved both. For as sweet and kind as she was, she was equally dark and downright raunchy and he got a kick out just thinking that he could bring out that side of her. He leaned in and flicked his tongue across her clit a few times as he began to pump his finger slowly. 

 

Her fingers wove into his short curls, holding his head close as he nipped, licked at her. Kit added a second finger and when he curled them slightly, she moaned loudly and bucked her hips up off the chair. 

 

“Shhh!,” he warned her, reaching up to cover her mouth with his free hand. He was enjoying this, maybe even more than she was, but the very last thing he wanted was for someone to hear them and find them there. 

 

He began to speed up his movements, feeling her tighten around him as she locked her heels behind his head and began to rock against him. 

 

“Kit,” she murmured against his hand, the rest of her words lost on him. 

 

“Hmmm?” he hummed against her clit, causing her to gasp as she came hard around his digits, her legs squeezing tightly around his head. 

 

She was breathlessly panting when he cautiously moved his hand away from her mouth. After a few moments, he turned his head to kiss at her inner thigh again until she eased her hold on him. 

 

“Holy fuck,” she cursed and let her legs fall from over his shoulders until her feet hit the ground once more. “What day is it?” 

 

Kit laughed at that and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Emilia tugged on his shirt, beckoning him up towards her. He held himself up on the arms of the chair as his face hovered over hers. 

 

“It’s Sunday,” he answered, kissing her deeply. 

 

“Right. Sunday,” she nodded. “We should get back.” 

 

“Do we have to?” 

 

“Just for a bit longer.” 

 

He pushed himself up and held out his hand out to her. Emilia stood and shook her dress out, brushing her hands over it to smooth out any wrinkles that might have formed. Kit retrieved his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on. 

 

“Don’t forget this,” he said, reaching for her award while she grabbed her clutch. “Ooops and these.” 

 

Bending over again, he picked her panties off the flood and offered them to her. She took them from his hand and tucked them into his pants pocket. 

 

“Remind me to get those after we get home,” she said with a wink. “It’d be awkward if you sent the tux back with those in the pocket.” 

 

A few minutes later they rejoined the rest of the party, seemingly unnoticed and unaware of exactly how long they’d been gone for. Kit moved over to the bar, ordering two seltzers with lime. 

 

“What the bloody hell happened to your hair,” Nathalie asked as she sidled up next to him. 

 

“What?” he asked, running a hand over it. 

 

“You look like...like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.” 

 

“Humidity. It’s really humid outside.” 

 

“Uh huh,” she nodded skeptically. “You might want to wipe some of Em’s lipstick off your mouth.” 

 

* * *

 

Emilia dried off her hands and checked her reflection in the mirror. Miraculously, her hair was holding up well. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for Kit.  _ Mostly my fault, _ she smiled to herself as she reached into her clutch in search of her lipstick to reapply.

 

“I hope you know what you did was really shitty,” a voice from the door to the bathroom said. Emilia closed her lipstick before turning around to see Amanda.

 

_ Not again _ , she thought with a sigh. 

 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

“I think you know exactly what and who I’m talking about.” 

 

“I know you’re drunk,” Emilia countered, snapping her clutch shut. “That’s about it.” 

 

“Do you fuck all of your friend’s husbands or just hers?” 

 

“You’re way out of line.”

 

“But you didn’t say I was wrong,” Amanda said walking towards her. She was taller than Emilia, especially so when wearing heels. 

 

“I didn’t say you were right either.”

 

“Do you think Dave doesn’t tell me things?” 

 

“I have a lot of love and respect for your husband, but he certainly doesn’t know everything about me and my personal life and neither do you. So I would back off before you say something you might regret.” 

 

“Or what?” 

 

“Is there a problem?” Nathalie asked as she opened a stall door. She walked over to Emilia and Amanda and wedged herself between the two women as she began washing her hands. “Excuse me.” 

 

“No problem at all,” Emilia smiled. “She was just leaving.” 

 

“Not just yet,” Amanda cut in. 

 

“Well  _ we’re _ done,” Nathalie said. “So if you’re gonna take a shit wait until we leave.” 

 

The pair brushed past Dave’s wife, leaving her alone in the loo while they made their way back to the rest of the guests at the after party. 

 

“Everything alright?” Kit asked when Emilia stood next to where he was sitting. 

 

“Yeah, I’m just a bit tired I think,” she replied. 

 

“Wanna get out of here?” 

 

“Can we?” 

 

“Of course,” he said. 

 

Kit stood from his chair and handed her award to her. They said their goodbyes to their friends and called for their car to be brought around. 

 

* * *

 

“Here, take this,” Kit said as he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over Emilia’s shoulders. “It’s chilly out.”

 

“Thanks,” she replied and pulled it tighter around her. Once the sun had gone down, the temperature had started to feel more like winter, even for California. 

 

Paparazzi swarmed the entrance as other attendees left before them. Kit wished there was an easier way out, a back entrance perhaps. A few years back, they had yelled out comments to him about his drunken bar fight in New York. Reporters may push for information, but they did it in a tolerable, almost polite way. Paps showed no mercy. They answered to no one and their paycheck was reliant on provoking people. 

 

“Kit!” 

 

“Emilia!” 

 

“Where’s the bloody car?” Emilia asked as she threaded her fingers through his. 

 

“Just behind this one,” he replied as the flashbulbs caused momentary blindness. “I don’t know who the fuck we’re waiting on.” 

 

“Kit! Is your divorce even final yet?” a photographer called. 

 

“Ignore them,” Em urged as she felt his hand tighten around hers. 

 

“Emilia! Did he file for divorce before or after he knocked you up?” 

 

Anger began to transform into rage. As insult after accusatory insult was hurled, not at him, but at Emilia, he found himself closer and closer to the breaking point. They could ridicule  _ him _ . They could blame  _ him.  _ They could taunt  _ him  _ all they wanted, but he could not simply stand by while they launched a verbal attack on her. 

 

“That’s fucking enough,” Kit said and began to try to shake his hand free from Emilia’s, but she held him fast, wrapping her arm around his. 

 

“Let it  _ go _ ,” she practically hissed in a hoarse whisper. “They want you to fly off the handle. They  _ want _ you to lose it so they can take a picture and make a buck.” 

 

He turned his back to the paps, effectively shielding her small frame from them as well. “They don’t get to talk about you like that.” 

 

“Just see if security can help us get to the car.” 

 

A security guard in front of Kit and two behind Emilia, helped them make it safely to their waiting car. Their driver apologized profusely for something that wasn’t even his fault to begin with. By the time they were situated in the comfort of the back seat the car in front of them had finally started to move, allowing them to pull out after it. 

 

“Kit…” Emilia said gently, placing her hand on top of his. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“You don’t have to apologize for what happened out there. I know you just want to protect me.” 

 

“Yeah and I’m shit at it.” 

 

“You are not,” she replied, putting her finger under his chin and turning his head to face her. “But that’s not a fight we can win. You hauling off on a photographer gets us nowhere.” 

 

“You don’t deserve anything they said to you.” 

 

“Don’t I?” 

 

“Em, what they said isn’t true. You  _ know _ it isn’t true.” 

 

“I know that. You know that. But I know there are some things I’m not proud of. People I’ve hurt that I wish I hadn’t.” 

 

“Me, too, but the past is the past. Why can’t it just stay in the past?” 

 

“Because that would be too easy.” 

 

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to him so that her head was resting against his chest. 

 

“We knew this would happen,” she sighed. “And it didn’t make it any easier.” 

 

“Do you think it’ll blow over by the time the SAGs roll around?” 

 

“I hope so. Three weeks is a long time. A lot can happen in three weeks.” 

 

“That’s the truth.” 

 

“I’m famished,” Emilia whined. 

 

“You didn’t eat much at dinner.” 

 

“I was too nervous.” 

 

“What are you hungry for. I’m sure we can find something open on the way home.” 

 

“...I don’t know.” 

 

“Yes, you do. What do you want?” 

 

“In-N-Out Burger,” she said quietly. 

 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I thought you’re not eating meat.” 

 

“I have a taste for it. I don’t  _ usually  _ eat meat, but I can’t help it if that’s that  _ your _ baby wants.” 

 

“Oh so now BCH is just  _ my _ baby?” Kit laughed. 

 

“Mmhmmm. Deal with it.” 

 

“Alright, what time is it.” 

 

“Quarter after twelve.” 

 

“I think they close at one. We can swing through the drive-thru on the way home.” 

 

“Yes!” Emilia cheered. “Make sure you get it animal style. And I would like a chocolate shake please.” 

 

“Anything else?” 

 

“Nope. That’s it.” 

 

“Make sure you put  _ that _ on Instagram. Right next to your Golden Globe.” 

 

“Bold of you to assume I’m not going to tear into that on the way home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. LA to London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! This chapter was a bit of a struggle because I started with a very grand outline and scrapped it all for a simpler chapter that really focuses and Kit and Emilia. I'm much happier with it and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to my tremendous Kimilia supporters. You all know who you are! Special thanks again to Ellie for the marvelous moodboard! I'm going to try my best to get another chapter posted before I leave for vacation at the end of next week!

Kit paced back and forth with his script in his hand as Emilia was stretched out on the couch, a blanket covering her legs. She was helping him run lines for  _ As You Like It _ on a rainy evening two weeks after the Golden Globes. The weather had been so lovely until that point. They had hiked several of her favorite trails, but even that became slightly boring. She missed London, missed their home, and was eager to return to all of it. She felt like she was in a creative desert in Los Angeles, devoid of any ability to write much of anything outside of her own journal. 

 

Returning to London meant starting yet another chapter of their life. In a few short weeks, she would start her third trimester. They needed to finish- and actually  _ begin  _ in earnest- working on BCH’s nursery and they would need to start putting some serious consideration into names. His play would begin in February as well. She was relieved not to be filming. It would not only mean missing out on performances, but it would mean missing out on quality time with him. 

 

Being an actor had never been a regular nine to five job. The hours were shit, but for the past few years, the two of them had at least been in the same orbit as one another, sometimes even on the same schedule. Emilia had grown accustomed to the life they had created together in just a few short months since she finished filming  _ Let Me Count the Ways _ . There was a normality to all of it. They established routines, they ate meals together at a real table, they were able to kiss each other goodnight, and wake up next to one another the next morning. 

 

Working in the theater was a different sort of beast entirely. He would likely be gone in the afternoon and return late at night after his show. She remembered fondly how she would slip into the back stagedoor last year when he was doing _True_ _West_ and she was filming _Last Christmas_. She would hang around in his dressing room with him, even if she couldn’t stay for the performance. Night shoots were a bitch. 

 

“You missed your line,” he prompted her.

 

“Sorry,” she replied, flipping through the script. “Where’d you leave off?” 

 

“We can be done if you want. I think your mind is somewhere else.” 

 

“Is it that obvious?” 

 

He nodded and held out his hand of the script. “A bit.” 

 

“The rain reminds me of home.” 

 

“Me, too. Tea?” 

 

“That sounds perfect. I can put the kettle on.” 

 

“Em, please. I’m already up. You’re comfortable. Just let me, alright?” 

 

“Alright,” she conceded. “While you’re in there, will you check to see if we have any more of those Dutch biscuit thingies.” 

 

“You might have to be more specific than that,” he said as he filled up the kettle at the sink. 

 

“The stroopwafel things. They’re good with tea.” 

 

She reached for the remote and switched on  _ The Great British Baking Show _ while she heard him rummaging about in the cabinets. Neither of them watched much television, but when they did have spare time, they found themselves either binging a series together, or watching something that was more of a guilty pleasure. She loved watching people make intricate desserts or completely remodel homes on  _ Grand Designs. _ Kit didn’t seem to care much at all what they watched. 

 

“Em, I think we have a problem,” Kit called from the kitchen. 

 

“Hmmm?” 

 

“Did you eat the last of them?” 

 

“What?” 

 

Emilia should not have been surprised. When she thought about it, she most definitely ate the last one the previous morning as she was running out the door. She had made a mental note to put it on a shopping list and then completely forgot to actually write it down. Her mother had warned her that women became more forgetful during pregnancy, but she hadn’t actually believed her. 

 

“There’s a spot in the cabinet where the box was, but no box.” 

 

“Damn,” she cursed, throwing the blanket off of her legs and pushing herself up off the sofa. “Okay, so I might’ve eaten the last of them.” 

 

“Might’ve?” 

 

“Alright, I  _ definitely _ ate the last of them.” 

 

He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll run out and get some more.” 

 

“Kit, you don’t have to. It’s fine.” 

 

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged and reached for his keys on the end of the counter. “Whole Foods is like five minutes away.” 

 

“It’s after ten. Whole Foods is closed. Plus, I don’t think they even have them. I got these from Ralph’s on the other side of town.” 

 

“They’re open late.” 

 

“Darling, it’s fine,  _ really _ . We can get more tomorrow. I’ve got to get some things for brunch on Saturday anyway.” 

 

“Emilia, love,” Kit said as he took her face in his hands. “If I don’t go, you’ll sit here and you’ll think about how much you want those. And then at midnight or one o’clock you’ll roll over and shake my shoulder and whisper  _ Kiiiiiit. Are you sleeping? I really want those things. _ ” 

 

“I wouldn’t!” she protested. 

 

“You did it over holiday!” 

 

“Once! I did it once!” 

 

“I’ll be back in no more than forty-five minutes,” he laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. “Why don’t you hop in the shower or something while you wait for me?”

 

“Well it’s not a bad idea. I’ll finish up the tea when I’m done and when you get back I might even share a stroopwafel with you.” 

 

“Might?” 

 

_ “Might.”  _

 

She was merely teasing. Of course she would share with him, or at the very least give him half of one. After Kit left for the store, Emilia decided to take his advice. She changed out of her clothes and hopped into the shower. If she had more time, she would’ve drawn a bath for herself and relaxed, but she thought baths were useless unless she could spend at least thirty minutes soaking. As it was, she showered quickly, wrapped her towel around herself and walked back into the bedroom. 

 

Emilia opened her drawer and reached for her pyjamas when she saw her black silk negligee. She wasn’t sure why she had packed it, or if it even still fit. It was an impulse buy she had purchased for herself after Christmas when she was buying larger bras. It had stayed tucked in her drawer ever since. She didn’t even think Kit knew she bought it. Removing the tags, she dropped the towel onto the bed and pulled the nightie over her head, shimmying it down her body. It fit perfectly, clinging to just the right places. She felt slightly silly in it, but she thought Kit would approve, or at least she hoped he would. Turning sideways, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and ran her hands over her bump. Since the Golden Globes she had stopped trying so hard to conceal it. She hadn’t realized it, but she had even taken to doing so when she was in the privacy of her own home, opting for looser shirts, jumpers, or sweatshirts. Even things that were Kit’s had been commandeered to suit her purposes. 

 

It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Despite the mixed fallout from the revelation, she was told a good deal of public opinion about it was favorable. She was mostly just relieved not to have to keep it such a tightly guarded secret anymore. She and Kit both enjoyed their privacy, but it was nice to not have to think very carefully about what she was wearing or who she might see every time she stepped out the door. 

 

Although it had caught them by surprise, Emilia was excited by the prospect of becoming a mother. Terrified, but excited at the same time. Now that the truth was out, she felt like she could enjoy her pregnancy. She no longer had to purchase baby items solely online. They could shop for the nursery  _ together _ . 

 

_ And damnit, _ she thought as she rubbed her belly.  _ I look really fucking cute. _

 

She applied some of her signature red lipstick and pursed her lips in the mirror. Pulling on her robe, Emilia made her way into the kitchen and put the abandoned kettle back on the stove. She busied herself with tidying up a bit, wiping down the counters and emptying the dishwasher until the kettle started to whistle. She turned off the stove and grabbed the tin of tea, opening it and placing a teabag in each of the cups to steep. 

 

* * *

 

Kit hated driving in California. He especially hated driving in California in the rain at night. He was used to living in London, relying on hired cars, his feet, or public transit to get from place to place. There was only one person he would do this for, no matter how frivolous the reason, and that person was Emilia. 

 

Despite the fact that she had told him she did not actually  _ need _ stroopwafels urgently, he knew that she wanted them. He had japed at her about how she woke him up over Christmas holiday, the day after his birthday to be exact, to fetch her something from the twenty-four hour shop just around the corner from her house. Truth be told, he knew if he didn’t make a run out to get them she wouldn’t have said anything. She was so used to giving to everyone else, that it wasn’t always easy for her to ask someone to do something for her. 

 

He had found them easily enough. In and out of the store in about ten minutes, but even that was enough for his hair to get wet. Once back inside the car he ran his fingers through it, knowing that when it dried it would turn into what Emilia affectionately referred to as a  _ poof _ . 

 

The rain seemed to start coming down even harder as he turned into the alley behind her house and pressed the button for the gate to open. He pulled onto the concrete slab and parked the car before searching around for an umbrella. He’d need to get into the gate to the back patio and then unlock the backdoor. Some shelter from the cold, driving rain would have been welcome, but he had no such luck. 

 

“Best make a run for it,” he said to himself as he popped the collar up on his coat in what would prove to be a futile attempt at staying on the dryer side of things. 

 

Kit fumbled with the keypad, typing in the wrong code once, before finally gaining access and avoiding setting off a security breach. Once he was through the gate he made a run for the covered portion of her back patio that led to the backdoor to the house. He wiped the rain off of his face before reaching into his pocket to retrieve his keys to unlock the door. 

 

“It’s still raining buckets,” he announced as he rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. “Fuck me…” 

 

Emilia stood before him at the counter, casually steeping a tea bag in hot water, clad in her silk robe and black lingerie he’d never seen before. She glanced his way and smiled at his comment. 

 

“Eventually,” she replied. “But I thought we’d have tea first.” 

 

Kit’s eyes were as wide as the saucers of their teacups as he looked her up and down. His mouth hung open slightly until he realized he had been staring for an impolite amount of time and shook his head. 

 

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to come home to  _ this _ .” 

 

“Well,” Emilia began, taking a step towards him until they were just inches apart. “I was in the shower, thinking about you going out into the rain to do something nice for me and I just wanted to return the favor. You poor thing, you’re soaking wet.” 

 

“Where did this come from?” he asked, his hand pushing her robe aside enough to get a better look at what she was wearing underneath. His palm brushed against one of her breasts as he ran it down to her waist and back up again. He felt his cock twitch in response at the sight before him. “I’ve never seen it before.”

 

“A store...I was saving it for something special. I decided that tonight is something special. You act like you’ve never seen what’s underneath before, Kitten.” 

 

“I’m acting like this because I know  _ exactly _ what’s underneath.” 

 

He grabbed her by the waist and tried to pull her flush against him when she put her hands up and pressed them against his chest. 

 

“You’ll get me wet!” she squealed.

 

“Isn’t that the point?” he said gruffly.

 

Keeping him at half an arm’s length, she wound a hand around his neck and coaxed his head down towards hers, joining this lips together in the lightest of kisses before pulling away. 

 

_ Fucking tease, _ he thought. 

 

“Did you get the biscuits?” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, laughing through his nose. He reached into the bag and pulled out the box, setting it back down on the carpet. “I got ‘em. Last package, too, so you’re lucky.” 

 

“Tell me something I didn’t already know. Go get changed out of those wet clothes before you catch cold and I’ll take these to the media room.” 

 

“Oh, you still expect me to want tea with you looking like that?” 

 

“You can just watch if you want to, but I’m drinking my tea and having a biscuit first. And probably one after, too.” 

 

Kit leaned in for one more quick peck before jogging upstairs to rid himself of his wet clothes. He couldn’t believe she had managed to surprise him. He certainly didn’t need any kind of thank you from her for driving across town to get what she was craving, but when she stood there, looking at him like  _ that _ , he certainly wasn’t going to tell her  _ no _ either. Deciding to forgo his usual boxer briefs, he pulled on his favorite grey sweats and a white shirt, running a towel over his curls before heading back downstairs in search of Emilia. 

 

The media room was probably the room of the house they spent the most time in together, aside from the bedroom and the kitchen. The living room just off the kitchen boasted a floor to ceiling bookshelf that would’ve made Em’s dad proud. The media room boasted an impressive television.  _ Still smaller than the bookshelf, _ she had quipped to him when she gave Kit the grand tour after she bought the place. The highlight of the room were the floor to ceiling windows and the plush, L-shaped sofa. It was exactly in the corner of the sofa- legs stretched out in front of her- that Kit found her waiting for him. 

 

“I was posed really sexily,” she said, shifting around a bit. “But then I got too uncomfortable like that.” 

 

“If you think I’m going to complain, you’re crazy,” he said, plopping down next to her. Kit reached for his teacup and noticed just one stroopwafel on the tray. “Didn’t leave one for me, I see.” 

 

“That’s yours. I already ate mine.” 

 

Kit swiped his stroopwafel off the tray and leaned back into the sofa, lifting his arm enough to allow Emilia to settle in next to him. 

 

“What are we watching for the time being?” 

 

“I put  _ Friends _ on because I don’t want to get into an episode of  _ Baking Show _ and not be able to finish it.” 

 

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between two people who didn’t need to fill every second of every day with mindless conversation. It was a kind of silence that he had always craved and almost never had before Emilia. At one point she rested her half-full teacup on his leg and nestled further into him, tempting him with her hand so very close to the waistband of his sweatpants.

 

Kit stole a glance down at her. Her legs were neatly tucked under her and the hem of her negligee had crept further up her porcelain thigh. Lipstick stained the rim of her teacup and he noticed that it had been awhile since she last reached for it. Craning his neck further, he saw that her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. 

 

“Oh love,” he sighed, kissing the top of her head. 

 

Carefully, he took her teacup and placed it on the other side of him on the sofa so that it wouldn’t spill. He had half a mind to just stay there, to retrieve the blanket from the back of the sofa and cover them, but he doubted either of them would be comfortable sleeping the whole night in that position. Kit eased out from underneath her and maneuvered his arms under her legs and behind her back, lifting her easily as he stood. He was halfway up the stairs when she stirred and lifted her head. 

 

“What?” she mumbled. “What time is it?” 

 

“Not sure,” he replied. “You fell asleep on my, Clarke. Literally.” 

 

“No...that wasn’t part of the plan.” 

 

“It’s alright. I’d rather have you fall asleep on me while watching the telly than while we’re doing something else.” 

 

“I would  _ never _ . You didn’t have to carry me,” Emilia said as he set her down on the bed. 

 

“I didn’t,” he shrugged as he pulled off his tshirt and climbed under the covers while she discarded her robe and did the same. “But the plan was to make it up here without you waking up.” 

 

“I ruined it by falling asleep.” 

 

Even as she bemoaned their missed opportunity, Emilia was snuggling into her pillow and reaching for his hand. Kit leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead. 

 

“Nuh uh,” she said as her eyes began to drift closed. “Kiss me properly before I fall asleep.” 

 

He smiled and kissed her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against his body. She fit so perfectly there, her head tucked underneath his chin. 

 

“Sweet dreams, love,” he whispered against her hair. 

 

* * *

 

It was still dark when Emilia woke up with an annoying urge to use the loo. BCH had managed to maneuver themselves into such a way so that they were pressing against her bladder, making the desire to stay in the warm bed impossible. She carefully extricated herself from Kit’s light hold on her and shuffled to the bathroom. When she returned, she found him still asleep, but rolled onto his back. One of his arms was stretched above his head and the other was resting on his bare chest. His curly hair was an unkempt mess that almost made him look like a mad scientist, albeit a very attractive one. The sight made her smile and think about how she had messed it at the Golden Globes after party. It was a shame she had fallen asleep last night, but perhaps she could make it up to him. 

 

She quietly eased back under the covered and settled in next to him. When she rested her head on his chest, his arm reflexively folded around her, but as far as she could tell, he remained asleep. She bit her lip as her hand drifted down his abdomen and under the waistband of his sweatpants. Deft fingers lightly grazed his shaft, causing it to twitch involuntarily. She wrapped them around his soft cock and stroked him a few times, holding her breath as she did so. His body was quick to respond, his cock hardening with every pass of her hand and each twist of her wrist. Emilia cursed him for wearing sweatpants to bed. They did nothing but hinder her ministrations. Had he not been wearing them, she could have easily used her mouth and tongue to tease him to attention. 

 

He stirred then, his hips shifting and rolling as a light moan hummed in the back of his throat. Her hand stilled for a moment and she pressed an open-mouth kiss against his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste him. 

 

“Good morning to you, too,” he said, his voice still gravelly with sleep. “It’s been awhile since you’ve woken me up this way.” 

 

“You liked it so much in Greece, but if I did it every morning, it wouldn’t be special.” 

 

He nudged her nose with his, waiting for her kiss but she pulled away, opting instead to kiss the tip of his nose. She released her hold on him and began to grab at his waistband. 

 

“Help me with these useless pants,” Emilia said, but Kit was already pushing them down his legs and kicking them off under the covers. 

 

When Kit began to roll onto his side, she put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back and pinning it against the bed. Her nails gripped into his shoulder as she pushed herself up, hiking her negligee up with her free hand so she could straddle his waist. 

 

“Oh no, don’t stop there,” Kit said as his large hands slid beneath the silky fabric and continued to push it up over her arse. “I don’t get to be the only one exposed down here.”

 

“Perv,” she teased him, but began to shimmy the fabric up her body just the same. “Are pregnant women your kink? Do you get off on them?” 

 

_ “This _ one is, and when your grinding your arse into my cock like that, yeah maybe I do get off on it.” 

 

“Jesus Christ, I shouldn’t be this turned on this early in the morning.” 

 

Emilia tossed her lingerie to the side and chanced a look down at Kit. Although the room was dimly lit by the barely rising sun, she could see something change in his eyes. His dark brown orbs softened a bit as he gazed up at her and any thoughts of self consciousness she might have had felt quickly vanished. A shiver raced through her and gooseflesh graced her skin as his fingertips traced up and down her spine. 

 

“Hey, gorgeous.” 

 

“Hello, handsome.” 

 

She leaned down as far as she could and he met her halfway, joining their lips together. The hunger that had momentarily subsided, returned and when they parted for air Emilia sat up again. She licked her palm and reached between their bodies, stroking him one more time before lifting herself up and positioning him at her entrance. Kit’s hands found her hips, steadying her as she slowly sank down onto his cock. She watched as his eyes closed at the sensation of being enveloped by her warmth. 

 

“Em…” he breathed as she began to rock and move. 

 

“I’m right here,” she whispered, bringing his hand up to her lips. She kissed his palm and placed it over her breast. He kneaded it lightly, gently rolling her nipple into a tight peak until she practically purred under his touch. 

 

“Too much?” 

 

She shook her head. “Just right.” 

 

Without warning, he wrapped his arm around her waist and sat up, bringing her body flush against his. He dropped his face to crook of her neck and took a deep breath, dragging his lips from her shoulder to the base of her neck. 

 

“You were too far away,” he explained. He lifted his head and cupped her cheek in his palm. “And I’m a greedy man.” 

 

“Honestly? My thighs felt like they were on fire anyway.” 

 

“Let’s fix that. How about you get more comfortable for a start, hmmm?” 

 

Emilia nodded and kissed him again before he helped ease her off of his lap and back onto her spot on the bed. She reached for one of the pillows and tucked it between her knees as she laid down on her right side, her back facing him. Glancing over her shoulder, she tipped her head to let him know she was ready and held a hand out to beckon back down next to her. 

 

“Is this alright?” she asked when he settled in behind her. 

 

The small smile he gave her melted her heart because it was one he reserved only for her. It was the smile he gave her when she showed up at his dressing room while he was doing  _ True West _ . The smile he gave her when he had turned up, unannounced, at the door to her hotel in New York after the Oscars. The smile he gave her when she had come to Connecticut. The smile he gave her when she’d told him she was pregnant. It was safe and reassuring. It spoke volumes no words could speak. It was a smile that held all of their secrets, their fears, their hopes, and their love. She was more than happy to return it. 

 

“S’alright with me,” he murmured as he brushed her hair out of the way so he could drop a kiss to the back of her shoulder. “Now I get to do this.” 

 

His lips left a searing trail across her skin as he kissed down her side, stopping to nip playfully at the tattoo on her ribcage. A goat had been an odd choice, but it was the only thing cryptic enough she could think of when she had it done in the spring of the previous year. She had never publicly explained to anyone what it meant to her. There was no Instagram post documenting the day she’d had it done. She may have been bold enough to show it off for the first time at the Time 100 Gala, but no one needed to know that it wasn’t  _ just _ a goat. It was Kit’s zodiac sign. If anyone had managed to piece that puzzle together, so be it, but she never would speak about it openly. 

 

She rolled back into him when his teeth grazed the underside of her breast, finishing off the work his fingers had started earlier. He knew exactly what she craved before she even knew it herself and as his mouth lightly closed around her nipple, his hand delved between her thighs so that his fingers could tease her clit. 

 

“More,” she gasped, wrapping her arm around his neck and digging her nails into his shoulder. He began to slide one, then two fingers inside her when she stopped him. “Not that. I want  _ you _ .” 

 

Desperately, achingly, she pressed her arse into him and arched her back. He took his cock and slid it along her folds, tempting her entrance before circling around her bundle of nerves. 

 

“Me?” he asked against the shell of her ear. 

 

“Kit, I swear to  _ Go- _ ” she began to say until he thrust into her, filling her so completely. 

 

“Better?” 

 

“I guess so.” 

 

Emilia flashed him a wicked grin over her shoulder, knowing her words would prompt him to move whether he knew she was teasing him or not. She knew she wouldn’t last long, not with the way he was rolling his hips, not with the way his hands seemed to be caressing every inch of her skin they could reach. Kit had always been the most  _ skilled _ lover she’d ever been with, but the mixture of hormones and her heightened sensitivity to everything made that even more true. 

 

“You wound me,” he whispered, pretending to be offended. He slowed his pace, but kept his strokes long, pulling almost all the way out, pausing, and sliding back in. Another pause, another breath, and then he’d repeat his motions. 

 

“I need you to move again, darling,” she said, craning her head to peck at his lips. “Because I’m going to come one way or another if you keep playing with my tits.” 

 

“Christ your mouth is filthy.” 

 

“You  _ love  _ it.” 

 

“I do. No sense in denying that. You feel exquisite, by the way. Do you know how sexy you looked when I came home last night?”

 

“Well, that was the plan…” 

 

“Do you know sound effects in cartoons? If my dick had a sound effect when I came around the corner, it would have gone  _ boing _ .”  

 

“Oh, go on!” 

 

“I could have ravished you on the counter, if you let me. No, we had to have our bloody tea first.” 

 

“For the record,” Emilia said, wiggling her hips against him in a vain attempt to get him to move again. “I regret that decision. In the future, fucking first, tea later.” 

 

“Fucking  _ second _ ,” Kit replied, kissing her softly as he began rock his hips. “Loving first.” 

 

Her hand found his and she threaded their fingers together, holding it close to her as she moved in rhythm with him. His nose was pressed against her neck, their legs tangled together in the bed sheets when she felt the familiar heat begin to pool in the pit of her stomach. She came hard around him, her walls spasming and contracting around his cock and sending him towards his own release. Her name spilled from his lips as he slowed to a stop, cradling her body against his. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being nearly weightless in his embrace as his words echoed in her ears.  _ Loving first _ . Inexplicably, tears pricked at her eyes and she couldn’t stop them from falling or stop the quiet sob that escaped with them. 

 

“Em...are you crying?” 

 

“...No?” she lied- badly, at that- because his hand had been tucked under her chin. 

 

“There’s tears on your cheeks. Are you alright. Was it something I said?” 

 

“Yes!” she blurted out, awkwardly rolling onto her back while she tried to swat at him.  _ “Fucking second, loving first _ ? Jesus Christ almighty, Kit. You can’t say shit like that to me while I’m carrying your child and think I’m not going to blub like a baby.” 

 

“I’m sorry?” 

 

“You bloody should be.” 

 

“Let me make it up to you,” he said softly as he kissed her knuckles. “Let me make you some breakfast. I’ll bring it up.” 

 

“Breakfast? Kit, it’s not even seven in the morning. I am warm and sated and I’m going back to sleep. Please join me in some early morning snuggles.” 

 

“Gladly.” 

 

“And when we wake up again,  _ then _ I wouldn’t mind some breakfast…” 

 

* * *

 

Within a week, they were back in London. A delay and an eleven hour flight later, their driver was winding through the streets of Islington while Emilia dozed on Kit’s shoulder. She felt like they were going nonstop all day and now it was nearing one o’clock in the morning. Before they left she had fired off a text to her mother, and Kit sent her a text when they landed. Jenny Clarke must have been waiting up for them because she texted back immediately, saying she had been tracking their flight on her phone.  _ I’m thirty-three years old and my mother still waits up for me _ , she thought as they pulled up to the house. 

 

“Mum?” Emilia called as they walked through the door. “We’re home!” 

 

She heard the distinct sound of paws racing across hardwood floors and dropped her purse and keys onto the table in the foyer. When Roxy vaulted from around the corner, Emilia awkwardly knelt to meet her, scooping her dog into her arms. 

 

“Did you miss me?” she asked, scratching behind Roxy’s ears. “I missed you. Yes, I did!” 

 

“Darling, I was beginning to think your flight would never get in,” Jenny Clarke said when she appeared from the same direction Roxy had just come from. 

 

“Our flight was delayed not once, but twice,” Kit explained. He had helped the driver bring all of their baggage into the house and locked the door behind him. “Sorry.” 

 

“You two must be exhausted.” 

 

Emilia took the hand Kit offered her and hoisted herself back to her feet. Her mother held out her arms and she stepped into them, giving her a long squeeze for good measure. No matter what was going on in her life, good or bad, there was something reassuringly comforting about her mum’s warm embrace. 

 

“I’m about ready to fall into bed,” she admitted, kissing her mother’s cheek. 

 

“How about something to eat first?” 

 

“Mum, that’s alright, you don’t need to fix me a plate.” 

 

“Go on,” Kit said. “I’ll get the bags upstairs.” 

 

When Emilia was younger, she took being  _ at home _ for granted. Nowadays, the further work pulled her away from London and the longer she was away, the more she had come to appreciate it. That was one of the reasons she made the decision last year that London, Islington specifically, was where she wanted to spend her life and her time. California was fine. New York was exhilarating. Neither place ever truly felt like home. 

 

“Did the two of you have a nice time in Los Angeles?” Jenny asked as she put on the kettle and retrieved a plate from the cupboard. 

 

“Define  _ nice _ ,” Emilia asked, leaning against one of the counters and using it to help stretch out her back. “I’m glad Kit was there with me, that’s for sure, but it’s good to be home.”    
  
“And you’re feeling alright?” 

 

“Yeah, I promise. I’m sleeping enough and eating enough for  _ two _ . You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

 

“Good. I’m not trying to be patronizing, I just know that you haven’t always been the best at taking care of  _ yourself. _ ” 

 

“I know, I know. But now I’ve got a good reason to. And no more work obligations until well after BCH arrives.” 

 

“You can’t fool your mother into thinking you’ll be taking it much easier just because you aren’t filming or flying across the ocean.” 

 

“It was worth a shot,” Emilia smiled and opened the fridge. “Mum, did you go shopping for us?” 

 

“What? I wanted to make sure there was something here when you got back. Now you don’t have to go out tomorrow if you don’t want to.” 

 

“Thank you. And thanks again for watching Roxy.”  

 

“I’m happy to help. You know that.” 

 

Emilia shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth and closed her eyes while she chewed. She could have fallen asleep standing up if she let herself. Part of her wondered if she would be able to make it through a shower or not and she weighed the pros and cons in her head. Showering at night meant she could sleep as late as she wanted the next day. Showering in the morning meant she could finish the salad she was eating, trudge upstairs to her bedroom and fall into bed. 

 

“Mum, you’re staying here tonight, right?” 

 

“Well, I was thinking-.” 

 

“You’re not thinking of going home tonight, are you?” Kit asked as he joined them in the kitchen. She held out a bite of her salad to him and he graciously took a forkful of it. 

 

“It’s not so very late.” 

 

“Jenny, please. Just stay another night. It would give both of us some peace of mind.” 

 

No man she dated had gotten on with her mother quite the way Kit did. There was nothing about their past together that her mother did not know about, for better or for worse.  _ How many tearful phone calls had she patiently listened to? _ Emilia wondered. When they had told Jenny about BCH, she had been more ecstatic than either of them had expected, excitedly announcing that she would be the hippest granny on the block.  It was far easier telling her the news than it was telling Kit’s parents. They were still trying to wrap their heads around the divorce and their son’s failed marriage. It was quite a lot of change in a very short amount of time. Emilia felt lucky to always have her mother’s guidance and support. 

 

“I missed this bed,” Emilia said later as she settled back into her pillow. 

 

“Me, too. I’ve got a costume fitting the day after tomorrow. And then rehearsals start next week.” 

 

“I’m so excited for you. I mean it. I know I don’t sound enthused right now, but it’s just because I don’t have the energy.” 

 

“I know,” Kit replied, brushing his hand across her cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You need to sleep.” 

 

“I’m so glad to be home. We can really make this into  _ our _ home now and finish decorating the nursery. And maybe visit Suffolk, too. BCH will need a room there as well.”

 

“One thing at a time, love. But first, sleep.”  

 

Emilia fought a futile war to keep her eyes open. She let them drift closed, but her mind did not stop. Although he had been living with her since the fall, Kit had yet to truly move many of his things other than his clothes and basic necessities into her house. Instead, he had temporarily moved many of his belongings to his home in Suffolk. It was important to her that this home was as much his as it was hers. As she noticed the room darken when Kit turned out his bedside lamp she thought of all of his beautiful photographs and how much she enjoyed them. She made a mental note to ask him to choose some of his favorites so she could have them framed and hung on the walls of their home. 

 

* * *

 

She sat down at the desk and opened her laptop. After fishing around in her purse, she had retrieved a long forgotten flashdrive, something she had found in a desk drawer the last time she was in Suffolk. She wasn’t sure what was on it, but she hoped it contained scans of some of the missing documents she was looking for. 

 

From the moment the file folder popped up on the screen, she knew she had the wrong flashdrive. Hers had been clearly labeled, the folders meticulously named. This...this was something quite different. Simply a letter:  _ E _ . Curiosity got the better of her and before she could stop herself, she clicked on the file, which revealed additional folders, also labeled. These seemed to be dates, though none that seemed overly significant. 

 

_ 3/2012 _

_ 10/2016 _

_ 1/2018 _

_ 6/2018 _

_ 2/2019 _

 

The years seemed odd, innocuous even, and there hadn’t been a new one since last year. Whatever was inside them had not been updated on a regular basis and had not been updated since last year. Selecting the most recent folder, she double-clicked on it to reveal an image, a black and white photograph, of  _ her _ . Blonde, short hair, lounging in bed and naked from the waist up- so comfortable, so candid, so intimate. Each subsequent picture was similar to the last. Each folder contained like images. She knew enough to know that the locations varied: London, Belfast, Iceland, Spain. 

 

Kit had kept a secret file of intimate photographs of Emilia that he had taken over the years. She was so angry she wanted to scream, wanted to delete every single one and throw her computer across the room, but she knew better. Painful as it was, she made a copy of each and every photograph- the innocent and the  _ not so innocent _ \- and then ejected the flashdrive from the laptop. She pushed herself away from the desk and made her way to the bedroom, safely tucking it away in her jewelry box. So far, he hadn’t known she was in possession of it. She hoped he wouldn’t find out, at least not for a few more weeks. The last eight months had been hell, the most difficult in her whole life. 

 

“But now,” Rose said aloud to no one but herself. “I have a bargaining chip.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Lead Me To Your Door- Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening night nerves. Flashbacks to how it all began again. Secrets revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised...here is Chapter 5 (Part 1) before I leave on vacation at the end of this week. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Thank you for all of the comments you've left. They're beyond encouraging to me and mean so much! Thanks especially to the NDC (again, you know who you are :D) and to Ellie for making another fabulous moodboard! I'll be gone for about a week with sometimes sketchy internet connection so I'm not sure when Chapter 5 Part II will be up. Thanks in advance for your patience!

 

“Em!” Kit called through the bathroom door. “Your phone’s going off for the third time.” 

 

“Answer it!” she yelled back to him. “It’s probably just Lola telling me she’s running late.” 

 

He reached for her phone from its place on the charger on the bedside table and saw the name of Emilia’s best mate on the screen. 

 

“Emilia Clarke’s phone, she’s in the loo, how can I help?” he answered cheerily. 

 

“Hey Kitstopher,” Lola replied. “Can you tell your girlfriend that I’m just leaving now and I should be there in twenty?” 

 

“Sure thing, we’ll see you soon.” 

 

After he hung up the call, Emilia emerged from the bathroom, fastening the back onto one of her earrings. She was wearing her favorite dark wash stretchy denim and a burgundy cashmere jumper that she would pair with her long black coat. He watched as she sat on the edge of the bed and strained to reach her boots on the floor. Without a word he scooped them up and handed them to her. 

 

“She said she’ll be here in twenty minutes,” he said as she smiled graciously at him. 

 

“Told you she’s running late,” she smiled and zipped both boots. “How do I look?” 

 

Kit studied her as she stood from the bed, smoothing out her jumper and checking her phone one last time. He knew if he answered too quickly, she would dismiss his answer as insincere. Too long and she would worry he was lying to her. 

 

“Hungry.” 

 

She held his gaze for a beat, hands on the back of her hips, and for a brief moment he thought she was about to lay into him. But her eyes gave her away, crinkling around the edges, as she smiled wide and shook her head. 

 

“I’m fucking famished,” she admitted, tilting her head back so that he could drop a kiss to her waiting lips. “You were up earlier than usual today.” 

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kit shrugged. “Thought I’d get an early morning workout in.” 

 

“Nervous?” 

 

“Honestly?” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“I’m bloody terrified.” 

 

Emilia wrapped her arms around his waist and held him as close as she could, her forehead resting against his shoulder. Kit wrapped himself around her small frame and closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. 

 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re bloody brilliant.” 

 

“Apparently at least one more time.” 

 

“Kit,” she said, pulling away enough to take his face in her hands. “I’ve been to the previews. I genuinely think it’s amazing. Would I lie to you?” 

 

He winced, but shook his head. “No. You wouldn’t.” 

 

“No, I wouldn’t. What time do you have to be at the theatre? 

 

“Around four. Will I see you before then?” 

 

“I should hope so. It’s not even half past nine.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“Should we do something later to help you relax?” she asked, her eyes twinkling as she glanced up at him. 

 

“And what might that entail?” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips as a hand drifted down to playfully squeeze her arse. 

 

“Something that might end in a nap.” 

 

“I think I like the sound of that.” 

 

“Do you need anything while I’m out?” 

 

“No, I think I’m going to head out after a bit. Take a walk to clear my head.” 

 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit, then.” 

 

“Yeah. Have fun with Lola, love.” 

 

Emilia pulled his face close enough to plant on kiss on his cheek before she walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he heard the door to the house close he fished his phone out of his pocket and read over the text message he had received that morning for the third time. 

 

_Rose: I’m waiting on your decision._

 

Taking a deep breath, he composed a short response. 

 

_Kit: I believe I have until the end of the week._

 

_Rose: You’re the one who said they didn’t want this to “drag on” longer than it needed to._

 

There were a number of things he wanted to say. He started and erased four different responses, determining it was better if he left it at that and didn’t respond at all. Instead, he opened up the internet browser on his phone and began to search for removals agents located near Ipswich. 

 

* * *

 

“Wait a sec,” Emilia said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a rectangular wrapped box.

 

“What’s this?” Kit asked as he took it from her. 

 

“Just a little something to mark the occasion,” she said, echoing the words he had said to her before the _Last Christmas_ premier. 

 

He unwrapped the box and crumpled the paper into his palm before lifting the lid. Inside was a simple watch with a black leather band. It wasn’t overly fancy, but he could tell it was well-made. It looked like something he would wear every day, not just on special occasions. He set the box onto the counter and began to unclasp the Rolex around his wrist. Taking, the new watch from the velvet-lined box, he began to fasten when Emilia reached out and stopped him. 

 

“Turn it over,” she prompted him.  

 

He flipped the watch over and tilted it a bit so he could make out the inscription engraved on the back. 

 

_“All the world’s a stage,”_ he read aloud. 

 

“I realize that it’s a Jacques quote, and not an Orlando quote, but I thought it was the most recognizable one from the play and-.” 

 

“Em, I love it. It’s perfect.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Yes,” he insisted, fastening it around his wrist. “Now I’ve got a little part of you to carry on stage with me. Thank you.” 

 

“You’re very welcome,” she replied and looked down at her phone. “Good timing, no pun intended. Our car is here.” 

 

Kit helped Emilia into her coat and pulled on his own, buttoning it up against the mid-February chill. He felt his nerves beginning to rise again as the hired car made its way from Islington to the Apollo Theatre in Soho. They had subsided when Emilia had come home from brunch and made good on her promise to help him relax which ended with both of them falling asleep on the couch, cocooned in a tangle of blankets. Luckily, he had been neurotic enough to set a reminder on his phone so their neither of them overslept. 

 

So far, Emilia had been the only person in his circle of family and friends to see the show in preview. Tonight, that would all change. His parents and brother would be there along with Dan and Johnny. Of course Em would be there and Jenny, too. Richard and Nathalie were both out of town, but would be seeing him the following week. It all made him feel slightly queasy. 

 

Kit felt like there was so much riding on this show. _True West_ had been a chance for him to dive back into theatre after _Thrones_. It took him back to his roots and he felt so natural, so at home on the stage. It wasn’t that he wanted to give up television and movies altogether, but some distance and time away from the screen, especially in such epic proportions had done him a world of good. He was in such a good state of mind from the late fall of 2018 to the early spring of 2019 and he credited much of that to being so damned content with what he was working on. 

 

He needed to show people that his stint in Connecticut hadn’t changed his ability to act. It hadn’t changed what he was passionate about. If anything- he hoped- it made him more focused on where he wanted his career to go. _As You Like It_ was a chance to prove his worth not only to theatregoers and critics, but also to himself. In many ways, Kit was his own harshest critic. 

 

“Where are you?” Em asked softly, leaning into him. 

 

“Somewhere between here and a daydream, I guess,” he replied. He pressed a kiss to her temple and tilted his head again the headrest. 

 

“That sounds delightful, can I come, too?” 

 

“Of course. I just want to be there and get into the walkthroughs and put my costume on and everything. Once I start doing that, I know I’ll relax.” 

 

“It’s the anticipation. That’s the killer.” 

 

“Mmmhmmm.”

 

“Your parents have their tickets, right? I just have mine and my mum’s tickets.” 

 

“Right. They’ve got them. You’re all sitting together.” 

 

“Excellent. We’ll be your own personal cheering section, although I told mum to leave her handmade I <3 Kit poster at home.”

 

“Tell her I’ll autograph it for her later.”   

 

* * *

 

_#ThisIs7Months #WhereAreTheRestOfMyFeet #RoxyIsAlreadyJealous_

 

Emilia crafted the perfect string of hashtags before uploading her latest picture to Instagram. It was a photo she had taken earlier that day as she lounged on the couch after brunch. Roxy was tucked next to her, trying to rest her head on Emilia’s growing baby bump, which now covered most of her feet aside from the tips of her toes. She was presently sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair in Kit’s dressing room and felt a bit like Goldilocks. There had been three chairs in the ample room, but none of them felt quite right. The second of the three had been the least terrible. 

 

_The chairs at the Vaudeville were comfier_ , she thought as she uploaded the picture. _Then again, I wasn’t quite as ungainly at the time._

 

**_December 2018- February 2019_ **

 

_“Kit Harington, you look like an absolute porn star,_ ” _she said as she stood in the doorway of his dressing room and watched him fuss with his hair in the mirror._

 

_“Em!” he exclaimed, whirling around in his chair to look at her. “You came!”_

 

_“Of course I did. I wanted to come sooner but-.”_

 

_“You’ve been working. I get it. I’m just glad you’re here.”_

 

_“It’s great to be back in London, honestly.”_

 

_“I heard you were in LA for quite awhile.”_

 

_“I was,” she nodded, averting her eyes. He didn’t specifically mention Charlie and she didn’t want to bring him up. He had just spent a long weekend with her in London and she was excited about where things were going. It was new. It was a change and it was exciting to think she could be moving on._

 

_“Well, you look really happy.”_

 

_“So do you, Kit. The stage suits you. That ‘stache on the other hand…”_

 

_“You don’t like it?” he asked, stroking it protectively._

 

_“I’m just used to the beard, I guess.”_

 

_“I know. I quite prefer it. The things we do for our craft, right Clarke?”_

 

* * *

 

_“What’s it like working with her?” he asked the second time she came to see him._

 

_“Emma?”_

 

_He nodded._

 

_“About as amazing as you could imagine. I’m just trying to soak it all up, really. She’s bloody brilliant. Paul is, too. It’s a Christmas movie, but it’s not_ _just _ _a Christmas movie, you know? There’s a lot of layers to it.”_

 

_“D’you know, that scene in Love Actually, when she’s crying in her bedroom, is probably my favorite bit of acting of all time.”_

 

_“Get out.”_

 

_“I’m serious.”_

 

_“I’m going to tell her you said that.”_

 

_“Oh please don’t.”_

 

_“I’m going to,” Emilia insisted. “Too late. She’ll be flattered.”_

 

_“I doubt Dame Emma Thompson would be flattered about something I said.”_

 

_“I guess we’ll find out.”_

 

* * *

 

_“How was your holiday?” she asked, flipping through a playbill. Not many people actually read the articles inside, but she did. Some of them were quite interesting._

 

_“It was...nice. We only had a few days off here. Thanks for the birthday card, by the way.”_

 

_Most people sent their friends texts on their birthdays, but not Emilia. If she was close enough to someone to truly count them as a friend, she sent them a card or a letter or a note. She knew that Kit wasn’t overly fond of his birthday falling on Boxing Day. It wasn’t that he craved attention solely for himself, it was just that he hated being caught up with the hubbub of Christmas. She knew what a personal message would mean to him._

 

_“You’re welcome. I owe you a birthday treat or something.”_

 

_“How’s what’s-his-name?” Kit asked._

 

_“Who?” Emilia replied, although she knew exactly who he was talking about._

 

_“Charlie, is it?”_

 

_He wasn’t good at pretending not to know what her boyfriend’s name was._

 

_“Oh._ _That _ _. That’s over.”_

 

_“Ah...I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”_

 

_“Don’t be,” she shrugged, catching his eye in the mirror. “It turns out he was gross and not worth my time. I guess directors aren’t that much better than actors after all.”_

 

_“Fuck him.”_

 

_“Yes, fuck that motherfucker, right? Lola told me that one of her friends in LA saw him on Raya.”_

 

_“On where?”_

 

_She rolled her eyes. He was so not part of that LA lifestyle. It was refreshing. “Raya is a dating app. Kinda like for hookups.”_

 

_“Fucking wanker.”_

 

_“He tried to deny it, of course. He said it was old, that he just hadn’t taken his profile down.”_

 

_“That’s bullshit. He’s lucky he’s in LA.”_

 

_“Why?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Would you fight for my honor?”_

 

_“Yeah,” he nodded. “Maybe I would.”_

 

_Kit held her gaze for a moment and although she had been joking, she knew that he most likely wasn’t. His face said it all. He was upset that she had been hurt, regardless of how nonchalant she had attempted to sound._

 

_“Well...then it’s a good thing he’s in LA.”_

 

* * *

 

_“I was thinking...you should come by set one night. We’re on night shoots again so you could come after the show.”_

 

_“I’d really like that.”_

 

_“I mean, only if you want to.”_

 

_“I just said I did. You’ve seen the show how many times now?”_

 

_“An unofficial five...twice the whole way through.”_

 

_“Does tonight make six?”_

 

_“Maybe?”_

 

_“More than some people…”_

 

_She knew who he meant. Distance was a bitch. She had experienced the same thing with Charlie. But she also knew that miles and kilometers only mattered so much. A person could be sitting in the same room with you and still feel like they were an ocean away. Or they could be on the other side of the world, filming in a location completely the opposite as you and feel like they were standing right beside you the whole time._

 

_“Watch it, Harington,” she replied, elbowing his ribs. “A few more times and I could be your understudy.”_

 

* * *

 

_He came to set. One night, around eleven thirty he showed up in the freezing cold. Clad in his flat cap, the collar of his jacket turned up around his scarf and his hands shoved into his pockets, Kit came to watch her work. He laughed at her as she clung to her hot water bottle for dear life. He made jokes with her about it being far warmer than Iceland._

 

_“Don’t you remember, Em?” he said. “You said that you’d love to play in the snow all the time.”_

 

_“That was Iceland,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “This is bloody London.”_

 

_“Is there that much difference.”_

 

_“Iceland was magical.”_

 

_He didn’t disagree. He couldn’t. Instead, he merely nodded and rubbed his gloved hands up and down her arms._

 

_“Yeah,” he replied. “It was.”_

 

* * *

 

_“Just a couple more weeks, huh?”_

 

_“Yeah. It’s hard to believe. I feel like it’s gone by so fast.”_

 

_“So what’s next?” she asked, taking a sip of tea from her to-go cup. She had brought some for both of them before she stopped by the theatre that night, slipping in unnoticed by the fans who were already out front. She always preferred to enter through the stagedoor in the alleyway._

 

_“Maybe a few days in Suffolk, then probably New York.”_

 

_“Yeah? Me, too. Well except for the Suffolk part.”_

 

_“Really?” he asked, setting his cup down. She was sitting in his chair, mostly to annoy him. She had told him if she came to another performance she’d be able to be his understudy. When she came in the door she had plopped into his chair in front of the mirror. Now he leaned back against the counter as he faced her, his arms crossed over his chest. He had a way of looking at her, like he couldn’t wait to hear the next words that would come out of her mouth. It was a rare quality to find in a person, even rarer to find in a friend._

 

_“Yes,” she replied, running her thumb along the rim of her cup. “It’s not been announced yet, but I’m presenting at the Oscars this year.”_

 

_“Well done, Em. Aren’t those in LA?”_

 

_“Patience, Kitten. I’m getting there.”_

 

_“Sorry, sorry.”_

 

_“So I leave for LA right after we do the first round of press for Thrones and present at the Oscars. I figure, I’d stay there for a few days. Maybe a week or so and then I’m going to New York the first week of March.”_

 

_“What takes you to New York?”_

 

_“I decided to finally launch my charity. I’ve been talking with people...my mum, some of the board members and I want to do it now.”_

 

_“That’s fantastic,” he smiled. “Did you ever settle on a name?”_

 

_“I did. We decided to go with SameYou.”_

 

_“SameYou.” He tested it out and gave a nod of approval. “I like it. That’s really exciting!”_

 

_“It’s also terrifying because at the same time as the launch, the New Yorker will be publishing a piece I’ve been writing, or trying to write, for them. I’m coming clean about everything. The hemorrhages, the recovery...everything. I’m not pulling any punches.”_

 

_“Wow.”_

 

_“I know. I’ve kept this part of my life a secret for so long. You’re one of the few people who knows everything, all the awful details. I’ve_ _lied_ _about this in the past. But if this can help just one young person like me, then it’s worth it. So I’m going to be in New York to meet with some of the HBO execs about possibly setting up an Omaze campaign. If everything goes well, I’ll officially launch the charity in the middle of March.”_

 

_“Aren’t you in the middle of an Omaze thing?”_

 

_“Yeah,” she laughed. “For the premier. This one would be for the finale.”_

 

_“Ooof. Fuck. Are you sure you want to watch that with a fan?”_

 

_“Well, if it raises truckloads of money and I can hand them some tissues, I think it’ll be okay.”_

 

_“I think this is incredible. I really do._ _You’re_ _incredible.”_

 

_“I don’t feel that way, sometimes.”_

 

_“Don’t do that.”_

 

_“Do what?”_

 

_“That thing you do when you sell yourself short. You just told me that you’re starting a charity to help young people who’ve suffered brain trauma with recovery and you’re self-deprecating.”_

 

_“I learned from the best, Kit.”_

 

_“No, you don’t. This isn’t about me. This is about you,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re brilliant.”_

 

_“Thanks, I needed that,” she sighed and covered his hand with her own, squeezing it lightly._

 

_Kit leaned towards her and ghosted his lips across her forehead. She closed her eyes, relishing the brief moment before he pulled back and looked down at her. The rational part of her knew that she should have pushed his hand away when it reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his knuckles brushing across her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip._

 

_The irrational part of her, the side that was all too often controlled by her heart, rather than her head, won out and when he kissed her, she did not stop him. Instead, she moved her lips against his, opened her mouth to him and deepened the kiss. Her body moved of its own volition and she found herself standing from the chair and wrapping her arms around his neck. She needed to be closer to him, needed to remember what it felt like to be pressed against him and to be completely enveloped by him._

 

_And then it all came screaming to a halt. Her goddamn brain freed itself from the chokehold her heart had over it. The enormity of the moment struck her like a punch to the gut and she broke away._

 

_“Kit...”_

 

_“Emilia,” he replied breathlessly, her lipstick staining his mouth._

 

_“I-I...I should go,” she whispered, reaching for her purse and coat, not even bothering to put it on as she nudged past him._

 

_“Em, wait,” he tried, but she held a hand up to stop him._

 

_“Don’t. Please. I’m sorry, have a good show tonight. I’m so sorry.”_

 

* * *

 

_“What are you doing here?” she asked as she opened the door to find him standing there, hands in his pockets, illumined by the lamplights._

 

_“You won’t answer any of my calls. You haven’t returned any of my texts.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“I’ve been worried about you.”_

 

_“Nat told me you called her.”_

 

_She pushed the door open and retreated into the house, giving him an open invitation to follow her. Pulling her silk robe around her body, she tied the belt around her waist as she made her way to the lounge. It was late and Emilia knew that he must have come straight from the theatre, for whatever reason, to her house. It struck her that it was the first time he’d been there since August. She had finally moved back home after the contractors finished renovations. Emma had graciously opened her home to her so that she didn’t have to stay in a hotel or with her mother an hour outside of London._

 

_“I did,” he confirmed. “Because I was-.”_

 

_“Worried about me.”_

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“Everything is fine.”_

 

_“Em, it’s not fine. I can tell it’s not.”_

 

_“Why are you worrying about me?”_

 

_“Because of how we left things the other night.”_

 

_“That’s a very casual way to address what happened.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“That can_ _never _ _happen again,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted very badly to pour herself another glass of wine, or to finish off the half-empty glass she had left on the end table as she waited for him to agree with her._

 

_He didn’t. He merely stood there and shifted his weight uncomfortably._

 

_“Em…”_

 

_“Don’t. Don’t_ _Em _ _me like that.”_

 

_“Like what?”_

 

_“Like you know what I’m thinking.”_

 

_“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said emphatically. “That’s the bloody problem. If I knew what you were thinking, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”_

 

_“I don’t even know what I’m thinking, My mind has been so fucking messed up this past week.”_

 

_“What can I do to help?”_

 

_“Nothing.”_

 

_“Nothing?”_

 

_“Unless you can help me figure out why_ _you _ _are the first person I want to text in the morning and the last I text at night._ _You _ _are the one I want to share my news with, good or bad, because you get it. You understand it in a way no one else can. I wanted him to be something he can’t be.”_

 

_“Who?” Kit asked, his brow furrowing._

 

_“Charlie! I wanted him to be you. Maybe I was trying to fill the hole in my life with someone who wasn’t you. He may have cheated on me, but I can’t blame that colossal failure solely on him. No one will ever be you. And so each and every day I’m faced with the terrifying and inconvenient truth that no matter how hard I’ve tried, no matter what I’ve done to prevent it, I’m still hopelessly and impossibly in love with you.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“You what?”_

 

_“I know. I’ve known. It’s easy to see, easy to recognize because I find myself doing those same things. Making those same choices. Asking myself those same questions because I love you, too.”_

 

_“No, you don’t.”_

 

_“Yes, I do.”_

 

_“Kit, please.”_

 

_“Why do you think I kissed you the other night?”_

 

_“I don’t know.”_

 

_“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he said, closing the distance between them. “I still want to. And unless you tell me not to, I’m going to kiss you again.”_

 

_Emilia could hear her heart pounding in her ears, her blood running hot in her veins. She knew she should have asked him to leave. She should tell him none of this was possible. She should have done all of those things instead of reaching out for him, grabbing the lapels of his coat and tugging him down towards her so that she could kiss him. His hands were on her hips, pulling her into him as he returned the kiss. The wool of his coat pricked at her skin and she reached between their bodies to unfasten the buttons. She broke the kiss, breathing heavily as she pushed it off of his shoulders and yanked the scarf from around his neck. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she pulled back, searching his eyes and taking his hand in hers._

 

_They held one another’s gaze for a moment before she threaded her fingers through his own. Emilia turned and led him from her lounge, past the kitchen, and up the stairs to her bedroom. She felt young and foolish again, almost as if she had just snuck a boy into her room. A distinct and palpable fear that she had completely misjudged the whole situation crept into her mind for a fleeting moment until she saw Kit toe his boots off and kick them to the side._

 

_He held out both of his hands and waited for her to place hers into them. His hands were warm and soft, comforting and reassuring. He turned her hands over and brought them up to his lips, placing a kiss to one palm and then the other. Letting them fall back to her sides, he took the tie of her robe and gently pulled, loosening the bow she had hastily tied when he arrived. She was wearing a tank top and shorts underneath, completing her look with a pair of warm, fuzzy socks. If Kit was unimpressed with her preferred choice of sleepwear, he didn’t say so or seem to mind._

 

_“You’re so beautiful,” he said as his fingertips danced beneath the collar of her robe and caressed her neck._

 

_“Hardly,” she guffawed. “You caught me on a typical night in on my day off.”_

 

_“Lucky me, then.”_

 

_Clothing fell piece by piece onto the floor until they were naked in each other’s arms. He eased her onto the bed and made love to her as if they were lovers who had been reunited after years apart. It was as thrilling as their first time together, but without the awkward bumping of noses, without the urgency. Now, they rose and fell together as if they were fashioned for one another. Kit knew every inch of her body, every curve, every sensitive spot and he coaxed sounds from her like an experienced musician. They’d had sex before. They’d fucked in at least three or four different countries and on two continents. But_ _this_ _, oh this was lovemaking, delicious and deliberate and unlike anything either had experienced before._

 

_Afterwards, she lay tucked into his side, relishing the feeling of how perfectly she fit against him. She felt sleepy and content, but she did not want to doze, did not want to miss a moment with him. He was still awake. She could tell by the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest and the way his fingers lightly traced patterns across her shoulder. It was so easy to imagine that this was how it was always meant to be. He would come home to her after a night at the theatre, maybe she would even surprise him by wearing something decidedly risque, and they would make love. This could have all been hers, except it was not._

 

_Suddenly, she sat up, pulling the blankets with her to cover herself._

 

_“What did we just do?” she asked with her back facing him. She ran a hand through her short, blonde hair._

 

_“I don’t know,” Kit replied. He exhaled a deeply held sigh and let his hand drift up and down her back. She should have shied away from it, but instead she leaned into his touch ever so slightly. “I just know this is the first honest thing I’ve done in a long time.”_

 

_Emilia twisted around to look down at him. Aside from his fairly ridiculous mustache, he looked so right lying in her bed with his arm tucked under his head. He looked like he belonged there, belonged to her instead of to someone else._

 

_“Kit…”_

 

_“I’m serious, Emilia,” he said softly. He pushed himself up and dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “Tonight, I felt like myself again for the first time in a very long time.”_

 

_“What do we do with this? Is this a one time fuck?” she asked crassly and he frowned._

 

_“Is that what it felt like to you?”_

 

_“No. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I don’t want to fall asleep, because I don’t want to wake up and have you not be here.”_

 

_“What if I was here when you woke up?”_

 

_“I’d probably think I was dreaming.”_

 

_She turned her head and pressed her nose against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his. It wasn’t enough to be sitting next to him. She needed to feel him, needed to touch him and hold onto him._

 

_“What if I came back tomorrow night?”_

 

_“I put the kettle on because we’d need to sit down and figure out what the fuck we’re doing and how we’re doing this. Or what_ _this _ _even is.”_

 

_“I know what_ _this _ _is.”_

 

_“You do?”_

 

_“This is me, pulling my head out of my arse and wanting to be with you,” Kit said sincerely as he took her hand in his. “This is me choosing us.”_

 

_“Should I put the kettle on at eleven, then?”_

* * *

 

 

**February 2020**

Despite the late night, Kit was up at his usual time the morning after opening night. It felt as if everything went off better than he could have hoped for. Now he was faced with his final uncertainty: the reviews. As he woke up, he fought the urge to reach for his phone and search for them. It would have meant wading through a myriad of congratulatory and perfunctory texts from his friends and family. 

 

In reality, there were only a handful of people whose opinions actually mattered to him: Emilia, his parents, and Johnny. He could trust that their opinions would be honest and last night they had given him nothing but praise. There was something in his mother’s eyes that wasn’t there when he had done _Faustus_ or even when he did _True West_. He felt like he had done her proud. 

 

He reached over to Emilia’s side of the bed and found it empty, not an unusual occurrence lately. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be up at least once in the night with a trip to the loo or to the kitchen, although he’d never admit to knowing about the latter. Still, as he listened for the telltale sounds that she was in the en suite, he heard nothing. 

 

“Em?” he called out but received no answer. 

 

Tossing the covers to the side he hopped out of bed in only his black boxer briefs and jogged to the en suite. No sign of her. He checked the kitchen next, followed by the longue. She was nowhere to be found. By the time he ran back up to the bedroom his heart was pounding in his chest. He frantically checked for a message on his phone which might clue him in to her whereabouts. Still nothing. 

 

_Kit: Where’d you go?_

 

He fired off a text and waited impatiently for a response. In less than a minute three grey dots appeared on the screen. _At least she’s not dead_ , he thought. An unnamed fear had gripped him until that moment, almost paralyzing him. It might have been irrational to worry about her so much, but there were so many scenarios that played through his mind. She had been in the clear as far as her brain hemorrhages went for years, everything had been going well with the pregnancy, but he still worried. He knew he asked her a bit too often for her liking how she was feeling, but she still humored him- _most of the time._  

 

_Emilia: It’s a surprise. Be home in a few._

 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give Kit the peace of mind to take a quick shower. By the time he had dressed and made his way down to the kitchen, Emilia was home. 

 

“Morning!” she said brightly as she removed some pastries from a box and set them onto a plate. 

 

“What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing to the spread on the kitchen table comprising of pastries, coffee, fruit, and a stack of newspapers. 

 

“I woke up early, checked the reviews online and decided we needed to celebrate. So please, have a seat Mr. Harington.” 

 

Kit shook his head, but followed her instructions. He placed a napkin onto his lap as she poured him a cup of coffee and placed a croissant onto his plate. 

 

“Which would you like to start off with first?” she asked, holding up just two of the papers. “ _The Times_ : Harington Flexes Comedic Muscle? _Or the Evening Standard_ : Shakespeare Meets Glastonbury in Refreshing New Take?” 

 

“Get out.”

 

“They’re all brilliant, darling. All five I could get my hands on. The Hollywood Reporter, too. You’ll have to go online to read that one. Four stars from most of them and a five star from the Evening Standard.” 

 

He sat back in his chair, genuinely flabbergasted as he read through some of the reviews or let Emilia read others aloud. Each one was more thrilling than the last. Each one another affirmation that he was doing what he was born to be doing; that he hadn’t lost anything in the year he spent away from the stage and the spotlight. They called him focused, nuanced, and funny. They praised his comedic timing and his line delivery. A few of them even mentioned the sacred words, _Olivier Award_. 

 

“I don’t even know how to take all of this in,” he admitted. 

 

“For now I think it’s alright if you sit back, have some breakfast, and enjoy this because it is so well deserved.” 

 

* * *

 

Emilia stood at the counter, fixing a late lunch for herself when she heard Kit’s phone ring. She had been working on a script and got lost in a scene when she realized how late it was. The rumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything yet. Kit had left his phone in the kitchen when he went upstairs to get ready to leave for the theatre. Brushing off her hands, she glanced at the screen and saw a string of numbers. Whoever was calling him was not someone in his contacts list. She picked up the phone and slid her thumb across the screen to answer it. 

 

“Hello, Mr. Haringont’s phone, he’s unavailable at the moment, can I take down a message?” 

 

“Hiya, miss,” the man on the other end said. “This is Tom from Risdale Removals. We wanted to confirm the appointment for this coming week.”  

 

“Appointment?” 

 

“To finish moving the furniture out of the house, miss.” 

 

“Oh, that was done weeks ago,” Emilia replied. “You must be mistaken.”

 

After they had returned to London from Los Angeles, Kit had arranged to have the remainder of his belongings moved out of his home on the other side of Islington and into her house or the house in Suffolk for temporary storage. In time they would figure out what they might keep and what they might donate. It felt good to be done with that stage. A step closer to closure. 

 

“Sorry, but he just rang me dad yesterday. For the house near Ipswich. Let’s see...in Brettenham” 

 

“Brettenham” she said slowly, trying to understand what the young man was telling her. 

 

“Suffolk?” 

 

“Yes, yes.” She was stammering now. “Sorry, I’ll pass along the message and have him call back to confirm.” 

 

Setting the phone back on the counter, Emilia barely heard Kit’s feet on the stairs until he was rounding the corner into the kitchen. He smelled fresh, like soap and cologne. 

 

“Who were you talking to?” he asked. He ran a hand through his wet hair  and reached over to snatch a slice of green pepper off her plate. 

 

“Did you hire movers? I thought you’d finished moving the things you were storing in Suffolk. But the removals agent who just called tells me I’m mistaken.” 

 

“Ah...I did. It’s to move everything of mine out of the house in Suffolk. For good.” 

 

“You just moved things there. Why are you moving things _out_ of the house?” 

 

She watched his shoulders sag as he let out a heavy sigh. 

 

“I’m giving up the house in Suffolk.” 

 

“When you say _giving up_ , you mean you’re selling it?” 

 

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean, I’m letting her have it as part of the divorce settlement.” 

 

“Wh- why would you do that? I thought everything was clearly laid out in the prenup. She gets Islington, you get Suffolk.” 

 

“I know. That _was_ the plan.” 

 

“So what changed?” 

 

“What changed is that this divorce is dragging on longer than I want it to. If this helps move it along, then I’m willing to part with it.” 

 

“When were you going to tell me?” 

 

“Eventually. She came back to the bargaining table and asked for more money. I want it to be final before BCH gets here. I want to be done with this so I can move on with you.” 

 

“Maybe I’ve got a severe case of pregnancy brain today. I don’t understand how she can ask for more? That house has to be worth over two million pounds. She knows I’m pregnant. She _knows_ you want the divorce to be finalized and she’s using it against you.” 

 

“It’s not important.” 

 

“Yes it is. You _love_ that house. You bought that house.” 

 

“Leave it, Emilia.” 

 

“No! She can’t do this. What is she going to do? Sell another story full of lies to the Mail? No. Bollocks. Let the divorce proceedings _drag_ on. You don’t have to do this on account of me.”

 

“Damnit, she has bloody pictures!” Kit suddenly exploded. 

 

“What?” 

 

“She has pictures of you. She found them by mistake on a flashdrive I left at the house in Suffolk.” 

 

“Pictures of me doing what?” 

 

“The photos _I_ took of you. In Spain. In Belfast. In Iceland. In-.” 

 

“London last year,” she finished, sitting down uneasily at the table. Her hands began to rub her temples. “Oh God.” 

 

“I put them into file folders and dated them.” 

 

“She can’t blackmail you. It’s illegal. Those are your property.” 

 

“She said that it proves we had an affair. She said there are copies of them on the computer, which is her property, technically.” 

 

“How?” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“I think I’m going to be sick. She wants to use them to hurt _you_ by taking something you love.” 

 

“It’s a house, Em.” 

 

“When were you going to tell me?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Or were you ever going to tell me?” 

 

“Of course I was going to tell you.” 

 

“When? When I brought up decorating the baby’s room there?” 

 

“No, before that, obviously.” 

 

“It’s not _obviously,_ Kit. Not when I had to find out from the bloody removals agent.” 

 

“You answered _my_ phone.” 

 

“We do that _all_ the time,” Emilia said, holding her hand up. “Don’t change the subject.” 

 

“I thought I was protecting you.” 

 

“How are you protecting me? By lying to me?” 

 

“I didn’t lie...I just withheld the truth.” 

 

“Fucking semantics.” 

 

“It’s the truth.” 

 

“It’s bullshit and you know it.” 

 

“I wanted to get this over with. I want her out of my life, out of _our_ lives. I wanted to protect you and not cause you grief and stress.” 

 

“Well mission a-fucking-ccomplished,” she said with a mock salute as she rose from the chair and walked into the foyer. “We’re a team. We’re supposed to be in this together.” 

 

“We are!” 

 

“No, we’re not. Not when you’re keeping things from me. This isn’t healthy.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kit asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“Internalizing things isn’t a great coping mechanism.” 

 

“So you’re saying you don’t trust me.” 

 

“I didn’t say that _at all_.” 

 

“No,” he said. “Not in so many words, but you know all about my coping mechanisms, don’t you?” 

 

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” Emilia said, opening the closet and reaching for her coat. She pulled it on and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’m not sitting here waiting for you to fuck up, but I need you to be honest with me. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.” 

 

“Where are you going?” Kit asked as she reached for the doorknob. 

 

“Out.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Lead Me to Your Door- Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilia seeks out advice. Kit struggles with inner demons. Flashbacks to 2019 and 2011.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back (finally!). I know this update has been a long time coming, but I wanted to make sure I got everything just right. Thank you for being so patient over the last two weeks. Special thanks to my biggest cheerleaders the NDC (you know who you are) and to Ellie for making this gorgeous moldboard. 
> 
> If you haven't read the fic In My Life by LivingMyBestLife54, I HIGHLY suggest you do. It's set in the summer of 2018 and we've decided that In My Life and Counterparts are part of a shared universe and timeline. Who knows! Maybe someday we'll write a Kimilia fic together...but you didn't hear that from me ;)

 

Emilia did not return home until she knew Kit had left for the theatre. She climbed the stairs to their bedroom and retrieved her overnight bag from the closet, hastily filling it with anything she might need. Over the last eleven years she had become a whiz at packing. It helped that she always had a smaller bag of toiletries ready to go at a moment’s notice. Where she was headed, she would have anything she needed anyway. She put Roxy on a lead and was out the door again in less than fifteen minutes. 

 

She’d considered ringing Lola or Nath, but decided against both, opting instead to make the drive an hour or so outside of London to the house she had grown up in. Her mother would know what to do. Her mother would know how to handle things, no matter how fucked up they seemed. She cranked up the radio and tried her very best not to think about Kit. 

 

She pulled around to the back of the house and fished her key out of her pocket. It occurred to her that she hadn’t called her text her mother and she hoped she was home. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and led Roxy to the back door, struggling a bit with the lock before finally gaining access into the house. Emilia huffed as she bent over and let Roxy off her lead. 

 

“Mum!” she called out into the house. “You home?” 

 

“Emilia?” Jenny Clarke replied from the other room, her voice getting closer with each step she took. “I didn’t realize you were popping by. Did I miss a text?” 

 

“No. I didn’t have time to text.” 

 

Jenny glanced from her daughter’s face to Roxy, to the overnight bag still slung over her shoulder. 

 

“Darling, what’s happened? Is everything alright?”

 

“I don’t know,” Emilia replied. She chewed the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from frowning, but her eyes welled up with tears just the same. “Kit and I fought.” 

 

Without a word, Jenny grabbed the bag from her daughter’s shoulder and gently set it onto the ground before pulling her into a hug. Emilia buried her head in her mother’s shoulder and let the tears she managed to hold in during the drive from London to flow freely. 

 

***

 

“So that’s it,” Emilia said, lifting her face from her hands. Recounting everything that had happened didn’t make her feel any better, at least not yet. 

 

“And these pictures she has of you...they’re ones Kit took?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

**_February 2019_ **

 

_ Kit kissed her shoulder and crawled out of bed, gloriously naked as the day he was born. He disappeared from her room and returned moments later with his Leica in hand. Emilia rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance.  _

 

_ “Do you take that with you wherever you go?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbow.  _

 

_ “You should know the answer to that by now. Is it alright? he asked, holding up the camera as if he was going to take a picture.  _

 

_ “Of course. How should I pose, Mr. Harington?”  _

 

_ “Just as you are. Just be natural.”  _

 

_ “Do you ever look at all of the pictures you’ve taken of me over the years?” she asked when they were lying in bed together again. He’d managed to turn the camera around and snap a few of her pressed against his chest. It was an artistic shot, focusing on their hands entwined together. Only parts of their faces were visible.  _

 

_ “Yeah,” he replied.  _

 

_ “Which ones are your favorite?”  _

 

_ “Hmmm...My most favorite? The one I took of you in Spain. You know, the one you posted on your Instagram without bothering to credit the photographer.”  _

 

_ “I didn’t want to ruffle feathers.”  _

 

_ “Anyway, you looked so gorgeous, like a timeless Old Hollywood actress. Bergman or Grace Kelly.”  _

 

_ “Stop,” she blushed and hid her face in his chest.  _

 

_ “Spain was special. For the whole time we filmed there I felt like I was in another world. It made me wonder…”  _

 

_ “What?”  _

 

_ “What might’ve happened if we’d filmed together sooner or more often. Sure, we’d see each other every now and then in Belfast to film, but can you imagine if we had been filming together since season five or six?”  _

 

_ “I’m not sure Dan and Dave would’ve liked that,” she mused, thinking of the no fraternization clause in their contract, the one they’d casually ignored in Spain, in Iceland, and even Belfast.  _

 

_ “Fuck ‘em.”  _

 

_ Emilia laughed at his comment. He was so very done being overly grateful to the producers of Thrones, especially after what they put them through during the final season.   _

 

_ “I’m serious,” Kit continued. “I can’t wait for this whole bloody premier to be over so this charade can end.”  _

 

_ “Me, too. After May, I plan on taking a nice long break from everything.”  _

 

_ “I’m already dreading all of the press. The interviews. The talk shows. The junkets.”  _

 

_ “At least we’ll probably be together for some of them. If the Entertainment Weekly spreads are any hint, they want to push the power couple angle. They’d be dumb not to have us do some press together.”  _

 

_ “So what comes after?”  _

 

_ “I think I’m going to Crete.”  _

 

_ “No, Em. I mean for us.”  _

 

_ “Oh. For us.”  _

 

_ “I can’t stay with her. And I love you too much to not have all of you. If you want me, that is.”  _

 

_ “Of course I want you. I don’t know how to do this. Or when.”  _

 

_ “I think I have to tell her when I go to New York in a few weeks.”  _

 

_ “Tell her about us?”  _

 

_ “Tell her I can’t do it anymore. I don’t like who I am when I’m with her. It’s not me. We have a pre-nup. If we can file quietly, hopefully it could all be settled by the fall.”  _

 

_ “Assuming she easily agrees to a divorce. She’ll fight for you, especially if she knows I’m involved.”  _

 

_ “There’s nothing left to fight for.”  _

 

_ “Our reps are going to hate this,” Emilia groaned.  _

 

_ “I know.”  _

 

_ “People already talk. HBO won’t like it much either. The two of you getting married was like some grand accomplishment in matchmaking.”  _

 

_ “That’s why I want to keep this quiet until the show is over.”  _

 

_ “People will know something is up, Kit. If you don’t bring her to the premier in the city she’s currently filming in, people will be suspicious. We have to be careful.”  _

 

_ “We will be,” he promised, kissing her forehead and running his fingers through her hair. He twirled a short strand around his finger.  _

 

_ “I’m growing it out again. And going back to being a brunette, too.”  _

 

_ “Oh? Good.”  _

 

_ “You don’t like me as a platinum blonde bombshell?”  _

 

_ “I like it if you like it, but I’ve always thought you were even more beautiful as a brunette. It makes your eyes really pop.”  _

 

_ “Thank you. What about you? Do you miss your long curls?”  _

 

_ “Pffft,” he laughed. “Hardly. I miss the ease of pulling it into a knot, but no. I rather like the anonymity the shorter hair affords me. The beard I’ll grow back though, once the show is over.”  _

 

_ “Thank God. You look too young without it. I love you with a bit a scruff.”  _

 

_ “So, I’ve been meaning to bring something up. Something I noticed the other day when I was leaving.”  _

 

_ “What’s that?” she asked, sitting up against the headboard when his tone became serious.  _

 

_ “You still have my hat.”  _

 

_ “I do.”  _

 

_ “Still have it hanging on your door.”  _

 

_ “That’s right.”  _

 

_ “How d’you know I didn’t want it back?”  _

 

_ “Look, you shouldn’t have left it lying on my counter that day last August when you came to visit. If you wanted it, you could’ve come over here and taken it.”  _

 

_ “Is it wrong that I like that something of mine has been here this whole time?”  _

 

_ “Not at all,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. “That was kind of the point.”  _

 

_ Later that day, after they’d had a late lunch together and he had showered and changed before heading to the theatre, she walked him to her door. He’d called ahead for a black cab. Normally, he never minded taking the tube, but this was a more direct route. He was less likely to be noticed. She leaned against the door as she watched him pull on his boots and wrap his scarf around his neck.  _

 

_ “I’ll text you after the show?” he suggested. “Even just to say goodnight?”  _

 

_ “You better,” she replied. She tugged on his scarf and brought him close for one more kiss. “Wait, you’re forgetting something.”  _

 

_ Emilia reached up to the hook and retrieved  _ _ the _ _ hat, his hat, that she had commandeered and fitted it onto his head.  _

 

_ “Now I’ll really be stealthy,” Kit grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back.”  _

 

_ “Good. It’s  _ _ ours _ _ now.”  _

 

**February 2020**

 

“So it wasn’t just...risqué photos?” Jenny asked. 

 

“No! Not at all. Some of them are completely innocent.” 

 

“I’m not clear on what she intends to do with them. I know her father is corrupt, but surely even she must know that blackmail is illegal.” 

 

“She, or someone she knows, could leak them to some trash heap like the Daily Mail or one of the American gossip rags.” 

 

“We’ll sue,” her mother said. 

 

“I don’t think she’ll actually use them,” Emilia reasoned. “At least that’s what I’ve managed to convince myself of on the way here.” 

 

“Why did you drive out here?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I mean, I’m glad you’re here, but why aren’t you talking to him about this?” 

 

“I tried! But I got so upset. He’s known about this for weeks and he’s kept this from me.” 

 

“Yes, and that wasn’t good. I’d be upset as well. Did he say why he didn’t tell you?” 

 

“He said he was trying to protect me,” Emilia scoffed. 

 

“And that’s not a good reason,” Jenny replied, more of a statement than a question. 

 

“Do  _ you _ think it’s a good reason?” 

 

“No,” she decided. “But I’m a step removed from this and as your mother, I understand the desire to protect you. Sometimes, it’s not about whether or not a person was right. I’m trying to understand his motives.” 

 

Emilia allowed herself to sink back into the sofa, smoothing her hands over her pronounced bump. Kit had wanted to save her from worry and undue stress. He wanted to end this months-long process for  _ her _ \- for their  _ family _ \- but it hurt to be kept in the dark. No matter how noble his motives, he should not have shouldered the burden alone. 

 

“I think,” she said, toying with the cuticle on her thumb. Her brow furrowed as she continued. “He’s used to doing all of this alone. He’s not used to having someone in his life he can turn to for help with this. His family is great, but they’re not quite like ours. How many frank discussions and conversations have we all had around the dinner table? His family isn’t like that. They don’t  _ talk _ like that.” 

 

“It’s also hard to talk when the person you’re speaking to leaves,” her mother said gently. 

 

Emilia nodded and looked away. “I don’t even know why I left...what propelled me to walk out that door.” 

 

“It’s how you cope, darling. Good or bad, you remove yourself from the situation. You escape. You escape away to a trip with your friends. You escape into a good book or film or play or mindless television program. And you escape into work, into a role.” 

 

It was true. Every word of it, no matter how much Emilia hated to admit it. For her own sanity she would disengage at times from all media. She went on trips with Lola, David, and Gommie. It helped her reset and refocus, but she also ran away from her feelings more times than she could count. Some people lost themselves in drink and drugs, but she lost herself in wanderlust, believing it to be a safer kind of inebriation. 

 

“It just...hurt. Not just that he kept it from me, but it hurt that after all these months, this whole past  _ year _ , he felt like he had to do this by himself.” 

 

“You love him,” Jenny said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “That’s how you know you love someone. The bad times. The tough times. The times of pain. It’s easy to love someone when times are good and everything is going your way. The real test is times like these. Times that bring out the best  _ or  _ worst in a person.” 

 

“I think it certainly brought out the worst in me,” Emilia replied glumly. 

 

“I once read a quote that said, ‘love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.’” 

 

“Sharing  _ and _ forgiving, huh?” 

 

“This is certainly no easy thing, nor is what I’m about to ask you, so I want you to be honest with me. Are you with him because of the baby?” 

 

“What?” 

 

Emilia blinked several times and tried to process what her mother just asked her. She wanted to rail against the question, to be angry it was even brought up in the first place. Instead, she allowed herself to admit that the thought had crossed her own mind late in the summer around the time of the Emmys. Life had moved at a rapid pace since they returned to London after their trip to Crete. Although they had no intention of going public with their relationship until much later, they began spending nearly every day together. From mid-July they had been inseparable. Before they left, they were lucky if they saw one another three days a week. Life had changed. They had rolled with the punches, both good and bad, and she could not imagine it another way. 

 

“No,” she shook her head. “Not at all. Not even a little bit. First of all, I’ve always wanted kids. I don’t need a fucking man to help me. You, of all people, know how long I’ve loved him. Maybe the timing was shit. Maybe it wasn’t something we planned on, but I know that with or without this baby I’d still want to be with him.

 

“It’s corny as hell, but I fell in love with one of my best mates. We’ve made some terrible decisions over the past ten years, but we’ve managed to find our way back to one another time and time again. There has to be a reason we keep coming back into each other’s lives. The reason is that I love him and maybe it’s selfish, but I’m finally choosing him.” 

 

It wasn’t until she had finished speaking that she realized she was shaking. 

 

“Well,” her mother replied with a sly smile.  _ “I _ know all of that. I just wanted to make sure  _ you _ know all of that.” 

 

“I do. I really do. I think I owe him an apology for leaving.” 

 

She checked her watch and saw that it was getting late. If she left now she could be back to the city a little while after Kit arrived home. 

 

“I hope you’re not thinking of driving back to the city tonight.” 

 

“I was…” 

 

“Absolutely not,” Jenny shook her head. “It’s quarter of eleven now. You won’t get home until nearly midnight. Don’t take this the wrong way dear, but you’re not the best driver. Stay here for the night and go home to talk to him in the morning.” 

 

“I have to tell him I’m here.” 

 

“You do. Show that the sun hasn’t set on your anger and that you’ll talk tomorrow when cooler heads have prevailed.” 

 

* * *

 

Emilia waited until Roxy trotted through into the room and closed the door, leaning against it as she surveyed her old bedroom. It was very much the way she left it when she made the move to London. Her fingers glided over her desk to a stack of records. The Beatles albums had belonged to her father. She’d taken them from his collection while she was staying with her mother the summer after he passed and would play them one after another, hoping the words and the melody would help mend her heart and spirit. 

 

Sgt. Peppers was her usual go-to, but tonight Rubber Soul was calling to her. Removing it from the sleeve, she set it onto the turntable and set the needle down, adjusting the volume so as not to disturb her mother. It was nearing midnight and just because she couldn’t sleep didn’t mean her mum should be kept awake. Her room was at the far end of the hallway and so the odds of her being disturbed were slim. 

 

She picked up her phone for the first time in a few hours and thumbed through the notifications. All of the usuals, but none from him. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. He should’ve been arriving home soon, he’d realize she wasn’t there. He deserved a text before that happened. She remembered how he’d reacted when she went around the corner for breakfast and newspapers the day after opening night of the play. 

 

_ Emilia: At my Mum’s for the night. I’ll be home in the morning. Xo  _

 

She placed the phone face down on her nightstand and stretched out on the bed, patting the spot next to her to encourage Roxy to hop up onto the bed as well. She was afraid of what he might respond with, or worse, that he would not respond at all. 

 

* * *

 

Kit felt his phone buzz in his pocket and fished it out. He had decided to forgo the usual black cab home from the theatre in favor of the tube and a brisk walk from the station. His performance that night had seemed like a blur, his mind clearly preoccupied with other things. Once, he had even missed his cue. 

 

_ Emilia: At my Mum’s for the night. I’ll be home in the morning. Xo _

 

_ Shit _ , he thought as he read her message. It was the first he had heard from her since she walked out the door earlier that afternoon, but it wasn’t entirely surprising. He fired off a quick response, hoping that it would lead to a conversation. 

 

_ Kit: thanks for letting me know. Love you.  _

 

He was relieved to receive her message. It saved him from the inevitable fear that would have gripped him if he walked into a dark and empty house. How many times had he come home after a fight with Rose to find she had up and left without notice, without letting him know where she was going? Sometimes she would leave only a note with the words  _ With Portia _ scribbled across it. Once she was gone for more than two weeks. It wasn’t something that had started when they married, it was a trend that existed long before. He had been foolish to think that any sort of vows they might recite would change such behavior. 

 

Inevitably, she would blame him. He would pick up a bottle and drink himself into oblivion. It was a vicious cycle. 

 

As Kit shoved his phone back into his pocket he instinctively patted around for a cigarette. He would’ve killed for even a whiff of second-hand smoke in that moment, or better yet, a drink. Just one. Just a swallow. Just a taste to help numb the pain. There wasn’t any alcohol at home. He’d noticed that when he moved in with Emilia in late autumn, but chalked it up to her not being able to drink. Now he wondered if she was merely removing the temptation for him without making a big deal out of it. 

 

No matter. There were half a dozen pubs between where he currently stood and home. It would be so easy to slip into one of his old haunts, but his feet propelled him past one and then a second pub. 

 

He screwed his eyes shut as he walked past the third pub, bumping into someone along the way. Muttering an apology, he continued on. He could practically hear the music playing, feel the wooden bar beneath his fingertips as he sidled up to the bar and held up a finger for a drink. The bartender would slide a glass of Scotch, neat, in front of him and he would pick it up. The glass would be cool in his hand, but the Scotch would feel like fire in his mouth as it burned its way down to his belly. 

 

When he passed the fourth pub the devil on his shoulder whispered that no one ever needed to know he had stopped in. Not his friends. Not his castmates. Not his family. Not even Emilia so far out of town in Oxfordshire. One drink wouldn’t hurt, especially one that no one knew about. 

 

Tears began to prick at his eyes as he walked by the fifth pub, nearly reaching for the handle. He told himself that it was the cold and the wind causing his eyes to water, but he knew better. He was pissed at himself and disappointed that he had kept something so important from Emilia. His motives may have but admirable, but he had to admit she was right. He should have told her about Rose’s new demands as soon as she had contacted him. Now she was off to her mum’s house because of him. 

 

As he rounded the corner he could see the light above the doorstep to their home if he squinted hard enough.  _ Home _ , he thought, inhaling a deep breath of cool air. 

 

“When I was home I was in a better place,” he mumbled a line from the play aloud. 

 

He’d never felt more at home than he did with Emilia. He thought about waking up beside her each morning, eating dinner together, making love slowly, fucking frantically -and every way in between- kissing her before bed each night. Since May, she’d occupied the top spot on his list. 

 

_ The List _ . 

 

He ran through the list he’d made that morning. Emilia. BCH- they’d need to come up with a name soon, a real one. Another week of sold out shows. Eight months and twenty-five days. 

 

Kit had gotten sober for himself, but every item on that listen made him  _ want _ to be better, to continue to be better. It wasn’t a list of reasons, it was a list of solutions, of outcomes that were the result of his continued betterment. 

 

He stopped dead in his tracks. He could have gone home to an empty house, spending the rest of the night tossing and turning as he waited for the sun to rise and for Emilia’s return. Instead, he turned toward the street, extended his arm and whistled at an oncoming unoccupied cab. He hopped into the back seat almost before it came to a complete stop. 

 

“Where to?” the driver asked, looking in the rear-view mirror.

 

“Oxfordshire,” Kit replied. “As quickly as you can.” 

 

**_February 2011_ **

 

_ Kit glanced down at the flowers in his hand as the train lurched to a halt. He thought they seemed both too much and not enough at the same time, but he couldn’t show up empty handed.  _

 

_ It had been one day since he’d spoken with Emilia’s mother on the phone after nearly two days of unanswered calls and text messages. She had never been one to go radio silent, at least not to him. The woman who had answered the phone was neither Emilia, nor did she sound altogether happy to speak to him at first.  _

 

_ “There better be a bloody good reason you’ve been blowing up my daughter’s phone,” she’d snapped without so much as a greeting.  _

 

_ “I...ummm...hello, Mrs. Clarke?” he’d stuttered. “I’m her friend, Kit.”  _

 

_ “Kit?”  _

 

_ “Christopher.”  _

 

_ Christopher? He never called himself that, but if it afforded him a little bit more of a chance to speak to Emilia he was willing to try.  _

 

_ “Kit…” she repeated. “Kit from work.”  _

 

_ “Yes,” he breathed. Maybe she  _ _ had _ _ heard of him. “I haven’t heard from her in days, and well, that’s not like her. I’m not a stalker or anything. I was just worried about her.”  _

 

_ There had been a long pause, so long he’d thought she hung up on him. Muffled voices in the background, but none he could recognize as Emilia’s before her mother came back on the line.  _

 

_ “Something’s happened…”  _

 

_ That night, Kit googled exactly what a subarachnoid hemorrhage was, switching back and forth between two different tabs on his internet browser and a dictionary. Hours later, he still wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew was that she’d had an aneurysm, one that killed one-third of all those who’d suffered one. All he cared about was that she was alive. _

 

_ After his searching and googling, he couldn’t sleep, not when he thought about all the different ways he might’ve lost her. If the woman in the loo hadn’t stopped to help her. If the ambulance had taken longer to her to the gym. If they hadn’t decided to transfer her from Whittington to the National Hospital for Neurology and Neuroscience. If the doctors had been unable to stop the bleed. It was more than enough to make him realize that whatever they had been over the last year, she wasn’t merely his friend.  _

 

_ Her mother seemed surprised when he’d asked if he could visit. Emilia had just been moved out of the ICU and was sleeping a great deal of the time, drifting in and out of consciousness due to the high doses of morphine to manage the pain. She might not even know he was there. He didn’t care. He wanted to see her,  _ _ needed _ _ to see her. Perhaps sensing his sincerity, Jenny Clarke gave him her phone number and asked him to text her when he arrived.  _

 

_ Kit pulled his sage-beige hat down to further shield his face. No one needed to see him walking into the hospital. Once he was through the doors and into the main lobby, he pulled out his phone and sent her mother a text message. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t the faintest idea what her mother looked like or if she even knew what he looked like. Ten minutes later a petite woman with blonde hair approached him and he instinctively straightened up and removed his cap.  _

 

_ “Kit?” she asked. “Or should I say Christopher?”  _

 

_ “Kit’s fine,” he smiled. “Thanks for meeting me. I wasn’t sure you’d know who I was.”  _

 

_ “Emilia showed me your photo once or twice before. When she was showing us images from set, I mean.”  _

 

_ “How is she?”  _

 

_ “The same. Stable. But I’m afraid she’s sleeping right now. I’m sorry that you came all this way. It was lovely of you to bring her flowers. I can give them to her and pass along a message.”  _

 

_ “I’d like to stay.”  _

 

_ “What?”  _

 

_ “Until she wakes up. If that’s alright with you.”  _

 

_ She was going to say no, he was sure of it just by the look in her eyes. But then she didn’t.  _

 

_ “Follow me,” she nodded and led him to the elevators.  _

 

_ Kit had been in hospitals before, though admittedly never to visit a friend. Mrs. Clarke led him to a waiting room and asked him to take a seat, assuring him that she would be right back.  _

 

_ “She’s still asleep,” Mrs. Clarke said when she returned, taking a seat opposite him. “Her dad said he’d get us when she’s awake. I’m not trying to keep you from her. Sometimes when she wakes up she’s in a great deal of pain or it takes her a minute to get her bearings.”  _

 

_ “It’s alright,” Kit replied as he fidgeted with the hat in his hand. “I wouldn’t want to bombard her. Does she know I’m coming today?”  _

 

_ “She does.”  _

 

_ “Good…”  _

 

_ “She said something about you being in New York recently?”  _

 

_ “I was,” he nodded. “For a couple of weeks. HBO had me out there at a screening of one of their new films. It helps garner buzz for our show. Or so they tell me. I had just gotten back and text her and that’s when I hadn’t heard from her. You know the rest.”  _

 

_ “Did you two work closely together on this season?”  _

 

_ “I wish.”  _

 

_ Emilia’s mother raised an eyebrow at that and for the first time, Kit noted a resemblance between mother and daughter.  _

 

_ “She got to film in all of the warm places,” he clarified. “I filmed mostly in Belfast.”  _

 

_ “How did the two of you become such good friends being so far away?”  _

 

_ “Well, they had all of us in Belfast for a bit for read throughs and costume fittings and such. So we got to know each other. There was a group of us around the same age. We’d hang out. It was kind of like being at summer camp. Then when we went our separate ways we kept in touch by text.”  _

 

_ “That’s good. We did worry about her being so far away, but what an opportunity.”  _

 

_ “Yeah, you must be really proud.”  _

 

_ They spent the next fifteen minutes exchanging pleasantries. Kit had never been one to make small talk, but he found Emilia’s mother easy to talk to and it was better than the silence that might have taken over once the conversation halted. She asked him about his family and his childhood and seemed fairly impressed that he had been on the stage before being cast in Thrones. She told him that Emilia’s father was a sound designer for the theatre- a fact he already knew.  _

 

_ “How are you doing?” he asked when the conversation lagged. “I’m sorry, that’s probably a stupid question.”  _

 

_ “It’s not a stupid question at all,” Mrs. Clarke replied. “It’s a very kind question and a complicated one. We’re...tired, but grateful she’s alive. As I told you on the phone yesterday, she’s not out of the woods yet. The next two weeks are crucial.”  _

 

_ “I remember. I read last night that one-third of all people don’t survive what she did.”  _

 

_ “You read?”  _

 

_ “Ah, yes,” Kit averted his eyes. “I wanted to know more about it, more about what she was going through.”  _

 

_ “Why?”  _

 

_ “Because I wanted to...because I care about her.”  _

 

_ “You do?” Emilia’s mother asked him. He shifted in his chair under her gaze.  _

 

_ “I do,” he nodded, admitted it to her as much as to himself. “Very much so.”  _

 

_ “I daresay the feeling is mutual.”  _

 

_ “Mrs. Clarke, if you and Mr. Clarke wanted to grab a bite to eat or go home for just a little while, I would stay with her when she wakes up. If she doesn’t feel like talking, I can just read. I do pretty good voices.”  _

 

_ “As an actor I would certainly hope so,” she smiled and took a moment to consider his offer. “That sounds...like a good idea. I’m sure she’d like to see you without any chaperones around.”  _

 

_ Moments passed in pleasant conversation. They discussed the upcoming premier and his hopes to return to the stage eventually during their breaks from filming. After he’d been waiting for nearly forty-five minutes a man appeared in the waiting room. He wore the same somewhat haggard expression as Emilia’s mother.  _

 

_ “Jenny,” the man said. “Millie’s awake. She said she wanted your help with something before we bring him in.”  _

 

_ “Right,” Mrs. Clarke said as she stood from her seat. “We’ll just be a few moments.”  _

 

_ Kit stood from his seat as well and extended his hand to Emilia’s father.  _

 

_ “I’m Kit, sir.”  _

 

_ “Rick Clarke,” the older man replied as he shook Kit’s hand. “It’s good of you to come see her. When I told her you were here she smiled bigger than I’ve seen her smile since she got here. And then she asked for her mum to help with her hair.”  _

 

_ He laughed through his nose. He’d seen Emilia done up to the nines with hair and makeup, but he’d also seen her fresh-faced with bedhead, one of his shirts hanging off of one of her shoulders. He didn’t care what she looked like, but it was so very much like her to want to look presentable.  _

 

_ “I couldn’t not come see her.”  _

 

**February 2020**

 

“Oy, we’re here mate,” the cabbie said, shaking Kit from his reverie. 

 

“Sorry,” he apologized. He paid the man and stepped out of the cab. 

 

His feet felt leaden as he walked down the front walk and up the stairs. He lingered at the door for a moment. There was a chance she wouldn’t want to see him. If she had wanted to talk to him, she would have stayed in London, but he had to at least try, had to show that he was making an effort. Bracing himself, he lifted his hand and rapped on the door. In a matter of seconds it opened to reveal not Emilia as he had expected, but her mother. 

 

“Hi Jenny,” he said in a low voice. 

 

“Christopher,” she replied in a measured tone before her face broke into a slight smile. Since the day he first spoke to her, his given name had become a bit of a running joke between the two of them. Her using it put him at ease. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” 

 

* * *

 

_ But of all these friends and lovers _

_ There is no one compares with you _

_ And these memories lose their meaning _

_ When I think of love as something new _

 

The words of  _ In My Life _ quietly filled Emilia’s room as she lightly stroked Roxy’s soft fur. She was glad she brought her, not just so that her dog wasn’t left home alone all night until Kit got home, but because she was a great comfort to her. When the B-side of the album ended in three more songs, she would shut it off and pretend to think she could sleep. After the A-side ended she changed clothes, pulling on her favorite sleep pants, tank top, and one of Kit’s jumpers she had shoved into her overnight bag. She brought the sleeve up to her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled like him, a mix of cologne, soap, and his hair product. 

 

When they’d first met, his scent was mingled with tobacco. She hadn’t loved it, but grew to associate it with him. She spent years trying to convince him to stop smoking, telling him all the reasons it was bad for his health. She wouldn’t let him smoke inside her house. He had even started vaping. It was still a bad habit, but it didn’t smell nearly as bad. He would only smoke his beloved cigarettes on the weekends, but the morning after she had taken the pregnancy test in Crete and received confirmation that she was pregnant, she found a half-smoked pack of cigarettes in the trash bin. A month later he had tossed his vape pen as well. 

 

As the vocals drifted into the instrumental portion of the song, Emilia thought she heard someone knocking on her door. 

 

_ Damnit, _ she thought as she shifted to the edge of the bed and into a sitting position.It was probably her mother, asking her to turn the music down a little more, just like she had done countless times when Emilia was a teenager. She padded across the room to the door and opened it, but saw no one. Instead, she heard voices coming from downstairs. 

 

“Hi Jenny,” Kit’s voice said at the front door. 

 

“Christopher. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” 

 

“Did you ask him to come here?” Emilia asked as she began to descend the stairs, holding the bannister with one hand and her belly with the other. 

 

“No, she didn’t,” he replied. “Do you want me to leave?” 

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course not. Besides, your cab’s already left.” 

 

“I think I’ll leave the two of you to it,” Jenny said as she began to inch away from them. “Don’t stay up too late.” 

 

Emilia held Kit’s gaze before she motioned with a nod of her head for him to follow her up the stairs. She didn’t trust herself to carry the conversation from earlier that day in the open air of the house. Upstairs in the confines of her room, she would be forced to keep her voice down, for fear of disturbing her mother. 

 

“I haven’t heard from you all day,” she began as she closed the door behind them. 

 

“I responded to your text,” Kit replied, draping his coat and scarf across a chair. He bent down to scratch behind Roxy ears as she danced around his feet. 

 

_ Traitor, _ she thought.  _ You’re supposed to be on my side. _

 

“You know what I mean.” 

 

“You didn’t text or call me either.” 

 

“You didn’t come after me.” 

 

Had she wanted him to? Did she want him to chase her out of their house, to twirl her around by the arm, drop to his knees and apologize? They didn’t live in a movie. This was reality and she certainly didn’t want to air dirty laundry in public. She left because she wanted to be alone, not because she wanted him to prove himself to her. She didn’t want a grand gesture. She wanted solitude. 

 

“Because you made it very clear that you didn’t want to be near me or you would’ve stayed to finish the conversation we were having.” 

 

“You mean the fight we were having?” 

 

“I didn’t come after you because I knew you needed time to process everything.” 

 

Emilia narrowed her eyes. She hated that he knew her so well sometimes.

 

“How’d you know that?” 

 

“Because,” Kit said with a small smile. “You went for a three hour walk after reading the season eight scripts.” 

 

“This rivals that in terms of shiftiness,” Emilia replied, plopping onto the foot of the bed.

 

“I know. Em, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

 

“I don’t know why you kept it from me.”

 

“I told you why.” 

 

“You didn’t want me to worry. You didn’t want to stress me out. Did you think this would all just go away? Or that I wouldn’t care that you have to give up something you love?” 

 

“Somethings are more important than a house, Emilia.” 

 

“It’s  _ not _ about the bloody house!” she exclaimed in a yelled whisper. 

 

“Then what is it about?” Kit asked. He turned her desk chair around so that he was facing her and took a seat. “Please enlighten me.” 

 

“It’s about her using you and manipulating you. She says jump and you say how high.” 

 

“I don’t want those pictures leaked.” 

 

“So what if they do? What person with access to the internet doesn’t have the ability to see pictures of my tits?” 

 

“This is different. These are meant to be private. But it’s all my fault, right? I fucked up again, O perfect one.” 

 

Emilia recoiled at his jab. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

 

“I wonder if it’s hard for you to be with such a fuck up like me.” 

 

“I am far from perfect.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Yes, really. Apparently, I walk out in the middle of conversations. I might be a smidge overprotective of people I love. I occasionally snort when I laugh and hog the covers.” 

 

He smiled a little in spite of himself. 

 

“And I have an undeniable weakness and vulnerability when it comes to you.” 

 

“I make you weak?” he asked.

 

“No!” she shook her head, eyes wide as she tried to form the right words to say. “That came out wrong. I’ve never been able to resist you. I don’t know what cosmic force in the universe keeps pulling us together, but I got tired of fighting it. 

 

“You are also my strength. You know everything about me. You make me strong because you’ve always supported me. You’ve never asked or expected me to be less than what I am so that you can feel better about yourself. I can’t say the same for other guys I’ve been with. 

 

“It kills me that you beat yourself up and think that you have to do  _ any _ of this alone. I don’t just want the good bits of you, Kit. I want the messy bits, the complicated bits, and everything in between. I have all of those, too. I know you’ve seen them. I push people away. Fuck, I pushed  _ you _ away and look where it got us. Nine years later and we’re finally together. 

 

“You are my best mate and my soulmate, my lover and friend. I feel most like myself when I’m with you. This thing only works with us when we’re honest with ourselves and with each other. I need to own up to my own shortcomings. I’m sorry I left instead of deciding to stay and talk to you about this.” 

 

Kit stood from his chair and closed the distance between them. Kneeling in front of her, he reached for her hands, holding them securely in his own.

 

“I’m sorry you had to find out about all of this from someone who wasn’t me,” he said. “You’re right, though. I’m not used to having someone to actually help me when I need it. I’m not used to having someone who will call me out on my bullshit, but who stands by me at the same time. I’m not used to deserving that.” 

 

“But you do. Can we agree that we were both fairly stupid and pig-headed?” 

 

“I think so.” 

 

“Can I convince you to reconsider just handing her the house in Suffolk?” 

 

“Em…” 

 

“Please?” 

 

“What if we let her have it and buy our  _ own _ house in the country?” 

 

“I’m listening,” Emilia replied. 

 

“Let’s get a house here or in Berkshire or Kent or all three. Let’s get a cottage in the woods by a creek. Do you even  _ want  _ to live somewhere I shared with her?” 

 

“I wanted it because I thought you wanted it.” 

 

“I’ll tell you want I want. I want someplace where we can start our own memories. Happy memories. I want a house that you can decorate to your heart’s content. Suffolk is a house that I lived in, a place that I enjoyed very much, but I want a home and I want it with you.” 

 

“Someplace we can bring our sproglets?” she asked. 

 

She liked that idea very much. It was easy to imagine scolding their children- and Kit- for tracking mud into the house after they were skipping stones across the stream. They could escape the hustle and bustle of the city and raise their babies right, raise them the way their parents brought them up. 

 

“Are you the Mother of Sproglets now?” Kit asked, brushing his knuckles across her belly. 

 

“I just might be.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Em. Truly.” 

 

“I know. Me, too.” 

 

Kit wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close for a few moments. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and relished the feeling of being close to him again. They had been at odds for less than a day, but it felt like a lifetime. 

 

“I’ve just got one question,” he asked as he drew away from her. 

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“Are you wearing my jumper?” 

 

* * *

 

Nearly an hour later, they were fighting against sleep as they lay entwined on her bed under the covers. Emilia lightly massaged his scalp and brushed her nose against his. Kit pecked at her kiss-swollen lips as his fingertips drifted up and down her back, occasionally dipping beneath her tank top. 

 

“If you don’t stop,” she murmured between kisses. “I’m going to need more and I think I’m too tired for that.” 

 

“We should sleep, then,” he said matter of factly. 

 

“The thought of having sex in my childhood bedroom is very tempting though…I feel like I’m sixteen and snuck my boyfriend into my room.” 

 

“Maybe in the morning then. You can’t even keep your eyes open.” 

 

“I can if I wanted to,” Emilia insisted, although her eyes remained closed. 

 

“Goodnight, love,” he replied and kissed her once more before tucking her head beneath his chin and closing his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

When Kit awoke the next morning he nearly forgot where he was until his memory came seeping back bit by bit. Despite the late hour they fell asleep, his body still woke him up at a fairly hour. He had slept soundly, not even realizing that Emilia had changed positions at some point in the night, sleeping with her back to him and one of his arms draped over her. She had probably gotten up to use the loo and he hadn’t even noticed. Kit slipped his hand beneath the fabric of her shirt, pushing it up so that he could caress the taut skin of her belly. He laid his palm flat near her navel and waited, hoping to feel the baby kick. 

 

“They’re still sleeping,” Emilia murmured, her voice thick with sleep. 

 

“Sorry,” he apologized, nuzzling the back of her neck. 

 

“We need to think about names. Can’t call them BCH when they get here.” 

 

She leaned back into him and placed her hand over his. 

 

“No, I suppose we can’t. I had an idea for a boy’s name.” 

 

“Oh?” she rolled onto her back and looked up at him expectantly. “Well?” 

 

“I was thinking about Roderick.” 

 

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat at the mention of her father’s name. He saw her eyes begin to fill with tears. They didn’t speak about her father often anymore, but Kit had met him on a handful of occasions and knew how much he meant to Emilia. They spent many nights in Spain while filming season seven talking about him, with her sharing stories and him offering a shoulder if she needed one to cry on. 

 

“I’d really like that,” she whispered as a tear slid out of the corner of her eye. He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and kissed her temple. “Roderick Catesby. I want part of your name in there, too.” 

 

“Roderick Catesby Clarke-Harington?” Kit tested the name. “It sounds good together. Now for a girl’s name…”

 

“Actually, I’ve had two in mind that I’ve always sort of liked.” 

 

“Hit me with ‘em.” 

 

She pushed herself up in bed a bit, sitting against the headboard and tucking her hair behind her ears. He could see the excitement on her face as she prepared to tell him her choice of names should BCH turn out to be a girl. 

 

“I’ve always liked Zara or Pippa.” 

 

“Pippa as in Philippa?” he asked. 

 

“Yes, but we’d only call her that if she was being naughty.” 

 

“That’s adorable. I think we need to fit a  _ Euphemia _ in there somewhere. Can’t have a little Clarke girl without it, can we?” 

 

“Philippa Euphemia...what’s your mum’s middle name again?” 

 

“Jane.” 

 

“How about Philippa Euphemia Jane Clarke-Harington?” 

 

“You don’t think it sounds too pretentious, do you?” 

 

“It’s only three names! I’ve got five bloody names plus Clarke on the end.” 

 

“I love it. Mum will be chuffed, too.” 

 

“Did we really just pick out names?” Emilia asked. 

 

“I think we did,” Kit replied. 

 

“Shit’s getting real, Harington.” 

 

“I can’t wait to teach him or her everything.”

 

“I know, just leave the winking to me, alright?”

 

“Two more months and we could be holding a little Ric or Pippa in our arms.” 

 

“Nervous?” 

 

“A little,” he admitted. “You?” 

 

“You know when you’re excited and slightly terrified and you feel like you want to puke? I feel like that.” 

 

“Oh good, so I’m not the only one.” 

 

“No, no,” she smiled as she laced her fingers through his. “We get to be excitedly terrified together.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! No mean cliffhanger this time!


	7. A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the day to day life for Kit and Emilia. BCH is just one month away. Surprise meetings. Flashback to February 2019. Award nominations...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a few weeks, chapter seven is finally ready! Thank you to the NDC for their support and for helping me beta this monster of a chapter! Thank you to everyone for their patience as well. I really thought this was going to be a short one and I ended up with the longest chapter yet. Don't I always say that? Thanks for sticking around, hanging tight, and waiting for it. The fact that anyone would be excited to read something I wrote is always mind-boggling to me. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> A very special thank you to Ellie for the lovely new moodboard she created for this chapter!!!

 

“Oh God….Mmmmmm,  _ fuck _ ,” Emilia moaned as she arched her back off the bed as much as she could. 

 

“Good?” Kit asked with a smirk. 

 

“Yes. Harder."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

“ _ Yes _ . Really dig your thumb into it.” 

 

Her head fell back onto her pillow as he pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot, massaging the tense muscles that had cramped up in the middle of the night. She had shaken Kit’s shoulder and implored him to help her. He’d flicked on his bedside light and graciously crawled towards the end of their bed to assist her. 

 

“Getting better?” he asked, sliding a hand up her calf. 

 

“Mmhmmm,” she nodded. “Thanks.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

Emilia reached for her glass of water. She knew it would help prevent cramping, but it would also send her to the loo more times than she cared to go. Taking a big gulp, she offered the glass to him but he declined. She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw that it was only two o’clock. 

 

“Come here,” she held out her hand to him. Kit threaded their fingers together and scooted back up towards the head of the bed, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

Emilia took his hand and placed it flat on her belly just to the right of her navel and waited until their child moved again. 

 

“You say you always miss it when they’re moving around. Here you go.” 

 

“What are they doing up so late?” he asked, moving his palm. 

 

“I don’t think they really care what time it is. They seem to love being active when I’m lying down”

 

“Listen here,” Kit said, lowering his head down so that it was near her stomach. “Mummy needs her sleep so it’s time to be good and let her rest.”

 

Another kick- or punch- this one aimed slightly higher towards her ribs. 

 

“Ow!” she laughed. “Nice job, Daddy. That worked  _ so _ well.” 

 

“Sorry, I tried.” 

 

“I’m going to use the loo as long as I’m up. Turn that light out, I’ll be right back.”

 

Emilia eased off the edge of the bed, smoothing out her long nightshirt and shivering as her feet stepped off the bedside rug and onto the hardwood floor. If she was lucky, she would be able to go back to bed and sleep until a decent hour in the morning, but that was rarely the case. BCH would sense that she was too comfortable and tap dance on her bladder. It was annoying and slightly embarrassing to have to half-run half-waddle into the ensuite before it was too late. In general, she felt good, but she would be very glad when the last month and a half of this pregnancy was over. 

 

“Much better,” she sighed as she rubbed lotion into her hands and walked back into the bedroom only to find Kit asleep again and snoring lightly. 

 

She wondered how he could have already fallen asleep so soundly in the short amount of time she was gone. Climbing back on the bed and under the covers she lowered her face down so she could whisper into his ear. 

 

“I’m so horny and I need you to fuck me right now or I won’t be able to fall asleep.” 

 

Nothing. Not even a slight stirring from him. 

 

“You really are asleep,” she sighed and kissed his cheek. 

 

It was hard to blame him. This was hardly the first time she had woken him up in the middle of the night and it would probably not be the last time. They kept late-ish hours. If she didn’t accompany him to the theatre, or if she left before the play began, she would have tea waiting for him when the cab dropped him off in front of the house. If they came home together, they would put on a kettle, change into their pyjamas, drink tea and read in bed. It was disgustingly stereotypical and domestic, but it was the favorite part of her day. He needed time to unwind, to come down from the rush and excitement of being on stage and she needed time to just be with him when they weren’t being pulled in five different directions apiece. 

 

Turning onto the side that was most comfortable to sleep on, she reached for his arm and pulled it across her body before closing her eyes. 

 

* * *

 

“And by the time I came back, he’d already fallen back to sleep,” Emilia told Lola a few days later. “My poor Kitten.” 

 

They were in the nursery, applying decals to the freshly painted walls and catching up on each other’s busy lives. Kit and Emilia had decided to go with a neutral theme that combined an enchanted forest and woodland creatures. He had even come home a few days ago with a white, stuffed owl that looked like Hedwig from  _ Harry Potter _ . 

 

“You’ve got your man waking up in the middle of the night to rub your feet and get you biscuits and I can’t even get a second date.”

 

“I’ve completely lucked out, what can I say?” 

 

“So, do the two of you still have sex and stuff or is that taboo?” 

 

_ “Lola! _ ” 

 

“I’ll take that as a  _ no _ ,” her friend replied, counting it as a small victory as she smoothed out a vinyl decal of a fox. 

 

“Actually…” 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“Jealous? It’s really good sex, too.” 

 

“How good is  _ good _ ?” 

 

“Like,” Emilia paused from adhering part of a tree and thought for a moment. “Really fucking good. Multiple orgasms good. Curl my toes so much I get a cramp in them good.” 

 

“I hate you.” 

 

“You asked!” 

 

“I’m happy for you,” Lola said. “I should’ve known Kit was the type.” 

 

“What type?” 

 

“The type who is into prego birds.” 

 

“Lo, don’t be mean. He’s really sweet about it.” 

 

“How are things going with the house hunting in Oxfordshire?” 

 

“Good! Our agent is showing us two places at the end of the week. One of them- the one I like the most from the pictures- is just ten minutes away from mum’s house.” 

 

“I bet Jenny loves that.” 

 

“I haven’t told her we’re looking for a place there yet. I want to surprise her. If we can get it, and have it fixed up a bit this spring, I’m hoping to spend most of the summer there with the baby.” 

 

“That sounds brilliant.” 

 

“Neither of us have any big projects lined up for the summer. We’re close enough to the city if we need to pop back in for a week or a weekend. No glaring eyes all around. We can just...be normal while we figure this parenting thing out.” 

 

“You’ll be a great mom. You already know that. You’re a phenomenal godmother and you’re great with kids.” 

 

“Speaking of godmothers...” Emilia said, laying down the tool she was using and the paper backing from the decal she just installed. “There’s been something I wanted to talk to you about, but I didn’t want to do it over text or a call.” 

 

“Oh holy fuck,” Lola gasped. “Are you serious?” 

 

“Yes! Will you be my baby’s godmother? We’ve asked Ben and Kit’s brother Jack to be godfathers. BCH will need someone very worldly who will take them to posh museums and art galleries and film screenings.” 

 

“Then I am your fairy godmother.” 

 

“Please don’t swear in church.” 

 

“No, no. Of course not.” 

 

“And no smo-.” 

 

“I will never ever ever smoke around the baby or smoke before I see the baby.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“How the hell did Kit quit so easily?” Lola asked a while later as they ate ice cream straight out of the carton in the kitchen, a reward for a job well done in the nursery. 

 

Everything was coming together nicely. They just needed to frame a new pictures on the wall and add the bed linens and they would be ready for BCH’s impending arrival the following month. 

 

“I’m not sure I would say it was easy for him to quit,” Emilia said as she dipped her spoon into the carton again. “He just...did. We were in Greece, I had just taken the test and found out I was pregnant. We stayed in for most of that day. The next day we were going sightseeing some more and we weren’t two steps out the door when I realized I forgot something. I went back and noticed that he had thrown the packets of cigarettes he packed in the bin. 

 

“We came back and he was still using the vape pen, but the smell doesn’t bother me nearly as much. A week or so later I had my first doctor’s appointment. I told him he didn’t have to go if he was worried about being seen, but he insisted. We heard the heartbeat for the first time and I don’t think I saw him smoke anything after that day. That was early September, a few weeks before the Emmys.” 

 

Lola nodded for a moment. “Wow. Maybe getting knocked up will kick my habit once and for all.” 

 

“I don’t think you need to go to that much of an extreme.” 

 

* * *

 

Emilia stood in front of the dresser, clad only in her bra and panties, while she contemplated what to wear that day. She and Kit were using the morning to drive to Oxfordshire to look through the two houses that seemed the most promising. Glancing out the window on the far side of the room she noticed the sun was shining.  _ That’s a good sign,  _ she thought, although the mid-March temperatures were sure to be anything but balmy. She opened a drawer and rifled through, passing over the black jumper that has become her go-to casual top as of late. Settling on a cashmere sweater the color of fresh butter, she closed the drawer. 

 

“How long do you plan on watching me?” she asked, making eye contact with Kit in the mirror as he sat on the bed in his boxer briefs and pretended to read the newspaper. He’d been up and out for a run and showered already that morning. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, setting the paper down. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and came to stand behind her. Dipping his head, he placed a kiss on her shoulder. 

 

“Kit…” 

 

His fingertips danced down her arms and ghosted over her hips. 

 

“Hmmm?” 

 

“We have to meet the agent at the first house in two and a half hours.” 

 

“And?” he asked, caressing her belly next and causing goosebumps to spread over her skin. 

 

Her eyes followed his motions in the mirror from the movement of his hands to trail of his lips across her shoulder and neck. He palmed her breasts and she felt her nipples begin to harden beneath the fabric of her bra in response to his touch. She tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access and a chance to nip at her earlobe. Her hands covered his and when she slipped her fingers between his he met her eyes in the mirror. 

 

“And you’re making me feel all tingly,” she breathed.  

 

“Kind of the point, Em. Are you going to lecture me again or call me a perv for getting turned on by you?” 

 

She learned her lesson the last time she’d done that. Emilia lost count of the number of times she’d called him pervy or cracked a joke at him when he complimented her figure or lavished her with attention. In the early days when she felt sick and bloated and self-conscious about herself and her appearance, Kit made sure to remind her how beautiful she was. He’d leave notes on vanity mirror that said “Hello, gorgeous” or “Good morning, beautiful”. She had caught him staring at her more than once. She thought he was humoring her all this time. Last month, when she made the same smartass remark, he recoiled at snapped at her a bit. 

 

“Well excuse me for thinking you look sexy and attractive and gorgeous while carrying our child. And excuse me for being slightly mesmerized by you all the time.” 

 

Well, fuck. She hadn’t expected that. “You are? Really?” 

 

“Yes! I don’t just say those things or get lost staring at you for shits. You genuinely amaze me. You've got a whole other person in there. I know you’re tired and I know it kills your back, but Christ you don’t look like it does. You’ve got this...grace about you, even when you’ve swiped my tshirt and favorite grey sweatpants. Even when your hair is in a messy bun on the top of your head. Even when you complain about having heartburn. I feel awestruck.” 

 

Her eyes welled up at the mere memory of those words as she caught his eyes in the mirror again. “No. I’m not going to lecture you again. We have approximately twenty minutes because I want to stop and pick up breakfast at Gregg’s or something on the way out of town.” 

 

“Excellent,” he replied, tugging her towards the bed. “We’ll still have ten minutes to cuddle afterwards.” 

 

“More like fifteen…” 

 

“Oh, I added in five minutes of foreplay to that ten minute estimate.” 

 

“Always pragmatic. I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.” 

 

***

 

“Is this the house with the pond in the garden or the one with the greenhouse attached to the back?” Kit asked as her pulled up to the first house only five minutes late. 

 

“The pond. Three bedrooms one bath. It’s less square feet than the other one, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing is it?” 

 

“Not by me it isn’t.” 

 

That was more than fine by Kit. He didn’t want another sprawling home in the country. He didn’t want an estate. He wanted a place that he could go with his family where they could spend time together. They’d read stories in front of the fireplace, or maybe even plays. They could have picnics in the garden or ride their bicycles to their grannies house. Emilia told him it wasn’t more than ten minutes away. 

 

Their place in Islington was more than big enough for them, as was her house in Venice. They could have as many sproglets as Em was willing to pop out- her words- and they would still have room in those homes. When he asked her how they would fit five children in a country cottage she merely smiled and said they could invest in bunk beds. 

 

“Helen sent a text that she’s already inside,” Emilia said as she stepped out of the car and brushed the crumbs from her almond croissant off her jumper. 

 

“She hasn’t told your mum any of this, has she?” Kit asked. He walked around the car and reached for her hand.

 

Emilia had been adamant about not telling her mother about buying a home so close to hers in Oxfordshire. Not only did she tell him that she wanted it to be a surprise, but she was also worried that they wouldn’t find anything they liked and they would have gotten Jenny’s hopes up for nothing. 

 

“I’ve sworn her to secrecy.” 

 

The cottage was everything it seemed to be from the pictures. Quaint, rather than cramped, it was easy for him to imagine their little family spending the summer and holidays there. He could practically see the cogs in Emilia’s mind turning as they went from room to room, no doubt brimming with ideas on how to decorate or redecorate each and every space. 

 

And then there was the garden. 

 

A stone patio opened up to a large garden with trees, flowers, shrubs, and an abundance of green space. Of course, there was the pond as well. It was not overly large, but big enough to surely capture the imagination of little minds. If he squinted he could picture BCH crouched down next to Emilia, trying ever so hard to catch a frog or to feed the ducks. He could picture growing their own fruits and vegetables, picking them in the afternoon and cooking them up for dinner and dessert. 

 

“What do you think?” Em asked him once they were back inside. 

 

“It ticks all our boxes, doesn’t it?” he replied. 

 

“Yes, but that’s not what I asked. You want to look at the other one, don’t you?” 

 

“Actually, I was going to say that I don’t even think we need to look at the other 

Yes house.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

She sounded like an excited child whose parents just told her she could have a  puppy.    
  


“Really,” Kit nodded. “I don’t know...there’s something about this place that already feel a lot like a home and it’s not even our stuff here yet. I can picture you feeding BCH in the morning on the patio while I root around in the garden. I can see you taking a bath in the clawfoot tub upstairs. I think this is it.” 

 

He took a step closer to her and lowered his voice so that he was out of Helen’s earshot. “I can imagine making love to you in our bedroom.” 

 

“We’d have to be quiet while the baby is asleep.” 

 

“I’m up for that challenge. Are you?” 

 

“Are the two of you ready to go to the next cottage?” Helen asked as she walked back into the foyer. 

 

“We were just discussing that,” Emilia said, tearing her eyes away from him. “We think we’re ready to put an offer on this house.” 

 

“Oh lovely! Let’s sit at the table and we can discuss numbers.” 

 

Three days and two counter offers later, the cottage was theirs  with a closing date set two weeks before BCH was due to arrive. Although they wouldn’t likely be spending time there until the summer, the idea of having that part of their lives settled was comforting. 

 

* * *

 

She had become an expert in navigating her way through the house in the dark. She could make it to the loo with her eyes closed- not that she recommended that. Getting down the stairs was a trickier feat, especially remembering which wooden tread creaked on the way down and which ones moaned on the way back up. Once she was into the kitchen, she was fairly safe. The light over the sink created just enough of a glow to cast aside the darkness. She opened the fridge and reached for the tub of clotted cream and a bowl of strawberries she had cleaned earlier that day. After pouring herself a glass of water, she settled into a chair at the kitchen table. 

 

It would have been proper to grab a spoon out of the drawer instead of unceremoniously swiping each strawberry into the cream, but she didn’t care. The drawer was too far away and her body felt too tired and ungainly to even think about getting up again. Kit would give her a hard time about it the next day, especially when he saw the red streaks in the whiteish cream and realized she had been double dipping. 

 

“Like we give a fuck,” she muttered as BCH seemingly kicked in approval of their mother’s choice of late night snack. Emilia absentmindedly rubbed her belly and took another bite. 

 

Strawberries were healthy. She had convinced herself of this and no amount of clotted cream would convince her otherwise. It had to be better than eating five stroopwafels in one sitting or half of a tub of ice cream. Besides, she was still getting her exercise between going for afternoon walks with Kit to attending yoga sessions twice a week with Nathalie. Growing a tiny human was hard work and sometimes, she felt like she deserved a treat. 

 

“Give a fuck about what?” Kit asked as he turned on the light, causing her to jump.

 

“Jesus Christ!” Emilia squinted as her heart practically leapt out of her chest. “You fucking arsehole.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “I heard something and noticed you weren’t in bed. Having a snack without me again?” 

 

“Yeah, you weren’t invited so bugger back off to bed.” 

 

He took the tub of cream from in front of her and scrutinized it closely. “Double dipper.” 

 

“That’s right, it’s all mine now.” 

 

“I don’t think so.” 

 

Taking a finger, he swiped it into the tub and brought it up to his lips before licking it clean. 

 

“Kit, you can’t do things like that when I’m this tired.” 

 

“Sorry.” 

 

“I don’t think you are.” 

 

“What can I do for you, love?” 

 

“Help me out of this chair and rub my back until I fall asleep?” 

 

He held his hand out to her, coaxing her out of her seat and helping her put everything away before following her up the stairs and back to their bedroom. 

 

“Is this what you’d imagined it would be like when you pictured us together?” Emilia asked as he soothed a warm hand under her nightshirt and pressed it into her lower back. 

 

“No,” he replied. “It’s better.” 

 

“Go on.” 

 

“I’m serious. I didn’t know what to expect when we came back from Greece, honestly. But I knew that we were never about that flashy life. It’s not real. This is real. It’s what’s important. This is what I want.”

 

“If you told me a year ago that I would be in this spot right now, I’d call you a bloody liar, but I’m happy. Despite all of the messiness and unpredictability, I’ve been insanely happy. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this way. Have I ever felt this way?” 

 

“Unpredictability...it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, does it?” Kit asked. 

 

“No. Sometimes it can end up being really fucking great.” 

 

* * *

 

“Fuck me.” 

 

“Gladly,” Emilia replied. “Give me a minute to hop on.” 

 

They were lounging on the sofa in the post-breakfast hours of the late morning. Emilia’s head was propped up by a pillow against Kit’s lap, the book she was currently reading, leaning against her stomach.  _ Clarke in her natural habitat _ , he thought. She was even still wearing her glasses, a sight rarely seen outside of the confines of the house.

 

“No, read this.” 

 

He thrust his phone towards her so that she could read the text message he had just received. 

 

_ Rose: I think it best if we discuss these matters in person.  _

 

“Is she fucking mental?” she asked, handing it back to Kit and trying to sit up. He gave her a gentle shove until she was upright again. “Tell her you’ll only meet in person if it’s with solicitors present.” 

 

“I don’t think she’ll go for that.” 

 

“You know what she’s trying to do.” 

 

“What?” Kit replied as he composed a text back to Rose. 

 

“She’s trying to be seen with you in public. She’s going to call the paparazzi so they can stake out wherever you plan to meet.” 

 

She was right. He knew she was right. He also knew that suggesting to Rose that they sell the house in Suffolk and split the sales between the two of them would likely not be well received. 

 

“She says no lawyers.” 

 

“Then tell her you’re not coming. I don’t trust her.” 

 

He understood Emilia’s trepidation. Rose had used the paparazzi for years throughout their relationship as a tool. In the beginning he had played along pretty willingly. It would make them both look good to be seen in a stable relationship. As that relationship began to breakdown, he began to resent the presence of photographers every time they stepped foot out of their flat.  _ Who really believes that paps are just casually waiting on a corner in Manhattan to snap a shot of a couple? _ he’d wondered the previous year. It became worse when she stopped telling him that her publicist was making the calls. He felt trapped and bombarded, like an animal on display at a zoo. 

 

“I don’t trust her either,” he muttered as he stood from the couch and began pacing around, staring at the little grey dots blinking on his screen to indicate that she was formulating a response. 

 

_ Rose: If you agree to meet me at Fredericks with no solicitors, I’ll give you the flashdrive back.  _

 

“Well?” Emilia asked expectantly. 

 

“She said that she’ll give the flashdrive back if I go without a solicitor and meet at a restaurant.” 

 

“Of course she bloody did.” 

 

“Em, maybe I should go?”

 

“No.” 

 

“Emilia, this could finally be settled.” 

 

“Maybe  _ I _ should go.” 

 

“What? She won’t go for that.” 

 

“She doesn’t have to know I’d be the one coming.” 

 

“I don’t like this idea at all,” Kit said honestly. 

 

“And I don’t like the idea of you meeting with her alone.” 

 

“What if she decides to leave?” 

 

“Then I’ll tell her she can hash it out with your solicitor. I doubt she would pass up the chance to get in a few jabs at me. If she wants pap pictures, she’ll have to settle for ones with me. That’ll look  _ really _ interesting.” 

 

The idea of Emilia meeting with Rose made Kit feel slightly queasy. As far as he knew, the two had not seen one another since the previous June when they met for lunch at the very same restaurant Rose suggested he meet her at. He had been freshly back from Connecticut and living in Soho. Rose wanted information about where he was staying and Emilia refused to give it up. 

 

“I want to go on record as saying that I don’t like this idea.” 

 

“Kit, I helped make this bed that we’re currently lying in. For the past year you’ve been dealing with most of this. Let me take this one. Besides, there are things I’d like to be able to say to her in person if she’ll listen to me.” 

 

Kit noticed that her annoyance had melted away into sincerity. Once upon a time, the three of them  _ had _ been friends. Friendships waxed and waned, especially in adulthood-  _ especially _ in their profession. Neither one of them had set out to hurt Rose. He had numerous opportunities to tell her as much in person, to apologise whether she accepted it or not. Emilia had not and perhaps it was something that had been weighing on her these last few months. 

 

“I’d like some closure from all of this,” Emilia said. “Let me do this. If she doesn’t want to deal with me, she doesn’t want to deal with me. I can’t change that. But we can kill two birds with one stone if we try.” 

 

“Alright,” he conceded with a nod. “I’ll tell her yes, then.” 

 

* * *

 

Emilia paid for her cab and stood out in front of the restaurant for a few moments before entering. Normally, she would’ve walked from her house to the restaurant, especially on such an unusually delightful day. The early March air was still crisp, but the sky was clear and there was a hint that maybe, just maybe, spring was on its way. As it was, she didn’t want to risk being seen along the way. If Rose was expecting Kit and if she had asked her publicist to call the paparazzi, there was a chance that they might be lurking somewhere close. 

 

She had shored herself up in the cab, went over talking points in her head. She would be succinct and to the point. She would do what she came to do and then leave. There was no need to make a scene and no need to draw anything out longer than it needed to be. But now she was second guessing her decision to come at all, to face the woman she knew deep in her heart of hearts that she had wronged. 

 

Walking into Fredericks, she removed her sunglasses and made her way to the maitre d, relieved that it was a relatively quiet afternoon. The lunch rush was over and the dinner rush was still a good hour and a half away. 

 

“I’m meeting Ms. Leslie,” she said quietly, hoping Rose had taken Kit’s advice and requested a table in the back of the restaurant. 

 

“Of course, Ms. Leslie arrived a few minutes ago. Right this way.” 

 

Heart beating louder and more rapidly in her ears, Emilia followed the man through a hallway to a back room of the restaurant. She saw a flash of red hair before she saw her face and realized she was grateful that Rose’s back was facing her. She was still several steps behind the maitre d when he placed the menu on the table and pulled out a chair for her as Rose turned towards her with a smile that immediately withered to a frown. 

 

“Emilia,” she stammered. “Wh-what are you doing here? Where’s Kit?” 

 

“He’s not coming,” Em replied as she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. She let the scarf she was wearing- one of Kit’s- hang about her shoulders, curious if Rose would recognize it. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because I didn’t want him to.” 

 

“Then I think we’re done here,” Rose replied as she started to collect her things. “This isn’t what we agreed upon. Tell him he’ll be hearing from my solicitor.” 

 

“Rose wait,” Emilia hissed, keen to not make a scene. “If you’ll stay, there are some things I’d like to say to you and I’m sure there are some things you’d like to say to me as well.” 

 

“I can think of a few choice words.” 

 

“Do you want an explanation first, or do you want to bitch me out first?” 

 

“Why don’t you start. That way if I don’t like what you’ve got to say I can cut you off as I see fit.” 

 

“I could be absolutely cliche and say that we didn’t mean for this to happen, but even that wouldn’t be true. I’ve loved him for a long time. Longer than I ever let myself admit.” 

 

“I know about your history, Emilia. I was there for most of it, remember?” Rose asked. “What I’d love to know is when you decided that your happiness was somehow more important than mine.” 

 

* * *

 

**_March 2019_ **

_  
He was on his way up to her room. That had been slightly unexpected. She was in New York for such a short time between her time in LA and heading back to London that she didn’t think they would be able to see one another. ‘I guess I was wrong’, she thought as she looked at the text he sent that morning. She had texted him when she landed at JFK late the previous night, just to let him know she was in town. To her surprise, he texted her back that he would see her the following day and she awoke to a message from him asking if she’d like some breakfast.  _

 

_ Now she was waiting by her door, peeking out the eyehole for a sign of him. They hadn’t seen one another in over two weeks, not since his show ended, not since they established the ground rules for their relationship.  _

 

_ The first rule was that they were committed to being together in whatever capacity they could be until he could file for divorce. Unfortunately, he could not file until he was married for a year. The second rule was that they would have to be extremely careful about how they would be seen together in public. The third and final rule was no more sex until after he filed.  _

 

_ It unsettled her to think of the two of them having an illicit affair. It unsettled her to think of herself as the other woman. So she chose not to think of it that way at all. She loved him. He loved her. It was as simple as that. If they were careful, they could make this work and hurt as few people as possible. Kit had reassured her that neither he nor Rose had been happy in their marriage. They had thought they could make it work, but failed miserably.  _

 

_ When she saw him round the corner into her hallway she unlocked the door and opened it slightly and then all the way before he even had a chance to lift his hand to knock. She pulled him unceremoniously into a tight embrace before pressing his back against the closed door and kissing him. He tasted of cigarettes and whiskey. At nine o’clock in the morning.  _

 

_ “I expected a warm welcome, but not quite that warm,” he said once she’d pulled away.  _

 

_ He looked worse for the wear now that she had a closer look at him. His hair not just the usual mess of curls, but disheveled. His beard neither trim nor tidy. His eyes bloodshot and framed with bags underneath.  _

 

_ “Is everything alright?” she asked.  _

 

_ “Well it’s certainly better now.”  _

 

_ “I’m serious Kit. You look like...shit.” _

 

_ “You would too if you were dealing with that I’m dealing with.”  _

 

_ “So I assume she’s not taking it well.”  _

 

_ “She’s not taking it at all. I haven’t told her yet.”  _

 

_ That hit her like a punch in the gut. When they parted ways in London, he assured her that he was going to come clean to Rose about their relationship and he didn’t. _

 

_ “Oh.”  _

 

_ “I’m sorry, Emilia. I was going to tell her everything. I had it all worked out on the plane ride over. And then she told me she’s been written off her show.”  _

 

_ “Convenient,” she shot over her shoulder as she descended into her hotel room. “Can’t imagine why.”  _

 

_ “She thought maybe if we go to the Premier together it’ll boost her image in the press.”  _

 

_ “Ahhh there it is. She’s using you, Kit.”  _

 

_ “I know that.”  _

 

_ “And it doesn’t bother you?”  _

 

_ “Of course it bothers me.”  _

 

_ “So this is how you’re dealing with it?”  _

 

_ “Yeah,” he said. “I got drunk off my ass last night, woke up hungover and decided to have a bit of the hair of the dog that bit me as a remedy. Are we really going to fight about this?”  _

 

_ “When you show up here smelling and tasting like whiskey? Yeah we are. Yeah, I’m pissed about it. If you want someone who’s going to let you drink yourself into oblivion be my guest. Maybe you should stay with your wife then.”  _

 

_ “Emilia, I’m sorry.”  _

 

_ “A little warning would’ve been nice. A text would’ve been great.”  _

 

_ “You’re right. I should’ve told you. Honestly? I’m worried about the fallout. I’m worried about what I’ll do after I tell her.”  _

 

_ “You’re worried about what she’ll do?”  _

 

_ “No. I’m worried about what I’ll do.”  _

 

_ “Then do it when I’m here. Either now or later when we’re here together.” She reached for him. “You don’t have to do this alone.”  _

 

_ He sat down on the edge of her bed and raked his hands through his hair. “I know. I know. God, I want to be better than this, but the last two weeks I’ve felt like the walls are closing in on me again. I didn’t feel like that in London. I didn’t feel like that with you. But when I’m with her or her family I feel like all of the air is being squeezed out of my lungs.”  _

 

_ “Kit,” she frowned, joining him on the bed and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. “You shouldn’t feel that way. That’s not how love works. There’s a quote from Toni Morrison, something about not falling in love, but rising in it.”  _

 

_ Glancing up at the mirror across from them Kit scowled and let himself fall backwards on the bed, pulling Emilia down with him.  _

 

_ “You’re right. I do look like shit.”  _

 

_ “We can fix that. Let’s get some food in you, some water and good strong coffee and then go for a walk and get some fresh air.”  _

 

_ “What about rule number two?”  _

 

_ “We’re friends aren’t we? Friends are allowed to go for walks together, aren’t they?”  _

 

_ “I guess so.”  _

 

_ “Take your coat off, I’ll order some breakfast to be sent up.”  _

 

_ *** _

_ Two hours later, they were walking side by side down the streets of Manhattan. Every so often, his hand would brush against hers and he had to resist the urge to tangle their fingers together.  _

 

_ “You’ve got a chat show tomorrow night?” Emilia asked.  _

 

_ “Colbert,” he confirmed.  _

 

_ “I’m there next month.”  _

 

_ “Do you feel like this is just a waste? It’s not like we can say anything. I feel like I’m gaslighting the fans.”  _

 

_ “It does feel that way a bit. These next two months...I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”   _

 

_ “It’ll be...fine.”  _

 

_ “You’ve almost convinced me of it with an answer like that.”  _

 

_ They continued on their walk, popping into shops as the fancy took them, following no discernable path. It wasn’t as easy to get lost in New York as it was in London if you didn’t know where you were going. All of the streets were numbered, like a grid system. They meandered into a bakery, where he bought some sweets for them to enjoy later that day. Emilia stopped to pet a dog while they waited for a traffic light to change. It all felt so normal, so ordinary. Slowly but surely, Kit felt his mind begin to clear, whether from the booze leaving his system, or the breakfast they had eaten, the fresh air, or the company he couldn’t quite tell.  _

 

_ He was content to let her chart their course, following her lead as he had done through much of their shared existence. Perhaps that had been folly. Perhaps if he hadn’t let her simply walk away from him all those years ago, they wouldn’t be in the very situation they were in now. But he loved her too much both now and then to question her decision. Kit often wondered with their lives might’ve been like if they had stayed together before season two began filming. They were both so young, had lives to live and mistakes to make. He was wise enough now to know that he was immature then. He wasn’t the man Emilia needed then. Sometimes, he wondered if he was even the man she needed now. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. Although they had been through their fair share of heartache and heartbreak, it lead them back to one another.  _

 

_ Soon, he realized that the turns she was taking were leading them back to the hotel. He should’ve cared that anyone might spot them walking in together, but that was easy enough to explain. They were both in the city and decided to meet up for drinks or dinner, but Emilia steered him away from the restaurant and towards the elevators that led back up to her room.  _

 

_ “Would you do something for me?” she asked as she pressed the button to her floor.  _

 

_ “Anything,” he replied.  _

 

_ *** _

 

_ “Well?” Emilia asked, chewing on her bottom lip. They were now sitting on the sofa in her suite, nibbling on what was left of the dinner they had ordered in while he read over what she had written for her piece in The New Yorker. _

 

_ “Em, this is...it’s...powerful.”  _

 

_ “Powerful?”  _

 

_ “The fact that you’re able to write about this. The fact that you can share this with the world is pretty powerful. You didn’t hold back. You weren’t afraid to tell it like it was. There’s a lot of strength in your vulnerability.”  _

 

_ “You’re not just saying that?”  _

 

_ “No. That’s my honest opinion.”  _

 

_ “Thank you. That means the world to me. You’re one of the few people who were literally there from the beginning. You know what I went through. You know why I’ve kept it under wraps.”  _

 

_ “Can I ask why now?”  _

 

_ “Of course. It’s a question I’ve asked myself. The time just feels right. I have a freedom I didn’t have two or three years ago. What I went through was horrible. It was terrifying. But if it can help someone else feel not so alone, if this charity can help people, then I have to tell my story.”  _

 

_ “And tomorrow you go for an interview?”  _

 

_ “Yeah, for their podcast. Writing this down was hard enough. Speaking about it out loud is always a challenge for me. I might well up and start to cry or something.”  _

 

_ “Then cry. Em, you nearly died. You don’t have to be strong all the time and just because you cry doesn’t make you less strong.”  _

 

_ “Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.”  _

 

_ “I suppose you’ll be going back to London after tomorrow.”  _

 

_ “I’m afraid so. Wednesday.”  _

 

_ “That’s not fair. You just got here.”  _

 

_ “You know it’s probably for the best, Kit. I feel out of our element here. You being in New York makes sense. Me, on the other hand...not so much.”  _

 

_ “FaceTime?” he suggested.  _

 

_ “Oooh, like we used to have Skype dates during season one filming when I was in Malta?”  _

 

_ “Absolutely.”  _

 

_ “It should be easier to pull off nowadays. But we’ve still got time together today. I propose a continuation of our tour of relaxation.”  _

 

_ “What did you have in mind?”  _

 

_ “Fancy taking a bath with me?” Emilia asked as she began to back towards the ensuite, curling her finger in a ‘come hither’ motion.  _

 

_ Kit followed her into the large bathroom and began to look around at the assortment of toiletries on the counter. They were a mixture of items Emilia had packed and ones provided by the hotel. He picked up each bottle and studied it closely.  _

 

_ “What are you looking for?”  _

 

_ “Bubble bath?”  _

 

_ Emilia laughed, her unbridled honking laugh that made him smile every time he heard it.  _

 

_ “Are you five?” she asked. “Sophisticated adults use bath oils, not bubble bath.” _

 

_ “Ah.”  _

 

_ “But if you want, we can pour some body wash in, too.”  _

 

_ “Yeah, maybe I want some fucking bubbles.”  _

 

_ “Then bubbles you shall have.”  _

 

_ Turning on the tap and adjusting the water to a temperature that would do Dany proud, Emilia poured in a copious amount of her specially made combination of oils and a few squirts of body wash. Soon the tub was filled with steaming bubbles. She shimmied out of her jeans and pulled her shirt over her head as Kit did the same. Boxer briefs, bra, and panties came next before they climbed into opposite ends of the tub and sunk into the scalding water. He hissed as his skin prickled and reddened.  _

 

_ “Can’t remember the last time I’ve had a bath,” he said.  _

 

_ “Really?” she asked.  _

 

_ “Really.”  _

 

_ “I’ve become a bath snob.”  _

 

_ “So I could tell with your disdain for bubbles.”  _

 

_ “I don’t  _ _ hate _ _ bubbles. They just don’t add anything. Oils help soothe and moisturize.”  _

 

_ “But bubbles are...fun.”  _

 

_ He gathered a handful of bubbles and covered his dark beard with them.  _

 

_ “Are you supposed to be Father Christmas?”  _

 

_ “Maybe.”  _

 

_ Emilia smirked at him and moved toward him in the large tub, situating herself with her legs straddling his hips and her arse resting against his thighs. She wiped the bubbles away and leaned forward to ghost her lips over his as her breasts pressed against his chest. _

 

_ “But with a bubble beard I can’t kiss you as easily.”  _

 

_ “When was the last time you were sitting on my lap in the water like this?”  _

 

_ “You remember…” _

 

_ “Yeah, I think we were in your lap pool in Venice after the Emmys in 2018.” _

 

_ “And what did we do there?” she asked as she took his cock into her hand.  _

 

_ “I thought the rules were no sex until I’ve filed,” he said as she sat on his lap and slowly stroked him.  _

 

_ “I did make that rule,” she smiled wickedly. “Which means I can break that rule, or bend it to my whim. I propose an addendum.”  _

 

_ “You have my undivided attention.”  _

 

_ “No actual sex until you’ve filed, but touching is allowed.”  _

 

_ “What about tasting?” he asked.  _

 

_ “You would ask that question.”  _

 

_ “It’s a very valid ques-” his words hitched in the back of his throat as she cupped his balls in her hand. He cleared his throat. “Question.”  _

 

_ “Oral is also allowed.”  _

 

_ “So just not penetration.”  _

 

_ “Correct. And no anything if you ever use the word penetration again.”  _

 

_ “Deal. Where were we?”  _

 

_ “I was giving you a tug in bathtub and you’re going to rest your head back and enjoy it.”  _

 

_ “I don’t get to play?” Kit asked, sliding a hand beneath her arse and bringing her closer.  _

 

_ Instead of leaning his head back, he tilted it forward, capturing her lips with his own as he dipped a finger between her folds causing her to moan into his mouth. He continued to tease her clit before sliding  a finger into her center. There would be a puddle of water to clean up on the floor afterwards, but she didn’t care. They had just spent a couple of weeks apart and this was worth it. It scared her to think of how quickly she had become accustomed to spending the night with him, or just time with him. In the last few weeks they were in London together, they easily fell back into their usual patterns. That was the part of the problem. Everything with Kit was easy and natural. Nothing felt like work. There were no false pretenses when she was with him, no masks either had to wear.  _

 

_ She came first, his fingers coaxing her to her climax before he allowed himself to come with a low, guttural moan only she could hear. They had learned to be quiet- when they wanted to be. With the water growing tepid around them and their limbs becoming languid, Kit helped Emilia from the tub and draped a towel around her shoulders. They dried off, but didn’t bother with clothes as they fell into the large bed and wrapped themselves around each other.  _

 

_ *** _

_ She lay with her back to him, wrapped in his arms, somewhere between being awake and asleep, somewhere between a daydream and real life. His fingers touched and soothed every part of her, caressed her thighs, massaged and teased her breasts, all without technically breaking any of their rules. There was the real beauty and treachery of it all. Lying in bed with him in her suite was no better than if he was fucking her up against the wall of his apartment in New York.  _

 

_ This was dangerous.  _

 

_ This was intimacy.  _

 

_ This was soul touching soul.  _

 

_ This was love.  _

 

_ Emilia might have felt better if their relationship had purely been about a good shag every now and then. He’d told her a couple of months ago that he knew his wife hadn’t been faithful to him either. Infidelity wasn’t a death sentence for a marriage. Love, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.  _

 

_ “I wish you could stay,” she moaned as he rolled one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.  _

 

_ “Why can’t I?”  _

 

_ “Won’t someone miss you?”  _

 

_ “We fought this morning. Again. I have a credit card. I told her not to expect me home tonight. Either I’d be away in a hotel or…”  _

 

_ “Staying with me then. Good. Christ, this feels so illicit.”  _

 

_ “Just for a few more months.”  _

 

_ “I can’t wait to wake up next to you and not feel guilty,” Emilia sighed as she turned over to face him. He looked better than he had that morning already. His large brown eyes were clear again and his color even looked better.  _

 

_ “I don’t really feel guilty now,” he replied.  _

 

_ “You don’t?”  _

 

_ “The only thing I feel guilty about is that I told you I was coming to New York to tell her the truth, and I haven’t done that yet. But I will.”  _

 

_ “I told you, if you want to do it when I’m here with you-.”  _

 

_ “I”m going to do it before I go to that Con in Berlin. That way we’ll be apart for awhile. I’ll let her come to the premier, she’s invited as a former cast member anyway. But after that, it’s time to talk about separation.”  _

 

_ “Okay.”  _

 

_ “I mean it, Emilia. I’m committed to you. I need to show you that.”  _

 

_ *** _

 

**March 2020**

 

“I blame myself for all of this,” Emilia admitted. “You have to know that. If I had been honest with myself and with him sooner, I could’ve saved us all a lot of heartache.” 

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Rose asked.

 

“No. I don’t expect that it will, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. Truly and deeply sorry. Not for loving Kit, but for hurting you, for betraying your trust, and for embarrassing you. If I could take that part of it back, I would. I don’t need you to accept my apology, but I need to put it out there.” 

 

“I thought you were my friend. I thought we were all friends.”

 

“We were! For a time we were all friends.” 

 

“No. We weren’t. The sooner I make myself understand that, the better. You’ve said what you came to say. Let’s talk business. Kit would like to sell Suffolk and split the money down the middle.” 

 

“That’s correct.” 

 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

 

“I figured you’d say that.” 

 

“As compensation for my undue emotional stress, I believe the split should be more of a seventy-five and twenty-five deal.” 

 

“Don’t be completely absurd,” Emilia balked. “A sixty-forty split is the best we can do.” 

 

“Seventy-thirty.” 

 

_ “Sixty-forty _ . And we all sign non-disclosure agreements. Sixty-forty and we can all move on with our lives.” 

 

Rose narrowed her eyes and regarded Emilia. She could tell that she was mulling the choice to make another counter offer that would be refused. 

 

“Done. I’ll have my solicitor draw up a non-disclosure.” 

 

“No need,” Em said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a manilla envelope. She pushed it across the table. “We’ve already had them drawn up. Kit and I have  _ both _ already signed ours. The flashdrive?” 

 

Rose opened the envelope and read the agreement over before taking the pen offered to her and signing her name to the contract. She fished the drive out of the pocket of her coat and slid it towards Emilia. 

 

“I know it’s too much to hope that you’ve also deleted the ones you told Kit were stored on your computer, but it’s in your best interest to do so.” 

 

She began to gather her things, pulling her jacket on and buttoning it up before slinging her purse over her shoulder. 

 

“Emilia,”Rose called to her before she could step away from the table. “I want you to know that I always knew there were three people in this marriage.” 

 

“Then why did you go through with it in the first place?” 

 

“Because I could. Because it worked. Because it’s what I wanted. And now it’s yours. I hope it makes you happy.” 

 

“Take care, Rose. I hear you’re quite the campaigner. Perhaps you’ve got a career in politics in your future.” 

 

“Goodbye, Em. For your sake, I hope you never reap what you sow.” 

 

Emilia shook her head and began to walk down the hallway before turning back around and catching Rose by surprise. 

 

“Oh and one more thing, he wants his fucking Jon Snow statue, too.” 

 

* * *

 

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

 

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

 

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

 

Kit opened an eye and saw his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Picking it up, he read his publicist’s name on the screen and set it back down before rolling over in bed. It was silent for a few moments. 

 

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

 

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

 

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

 

“Please answer your fucking phone before I throw it against the wall,” Emilia mumbled as she nudged his leg with her foot. She pulled the covers over her head, no doubt in an attempt to drown out the buzzing. 

 

They were napping the afternoon away after another fairly sleepless night. She had been unable to sleep due to bad reflux and he had felt bad about it and suggested they binge watch something on Netflix until they could fall asleep. She told him that he didn’t need to stay up with her, but didn’t complain when he sat up next to her and and brought up some cold cereal for them to nibble on. 

 

“What is it, Mariana?” Kit asked, dragging a hand over his face. 

 

“Are you not watching?” his publicist asked. 

 

“Watching what?” 

 

“Oh my God, only you would forget one of the biggest days in your career.” 

 

“What are you talking about?” 

 

“You’ve just been nominated for an Olivier, Kit.” 

 

“An Olivier?” 

 

“An Olivier?” Emilia’s muffled voice came from under the covers until she shoved the blankets down and looked up at him. 

 

“Congratulations,” Mariana confirmed. “Think of something you want to say in an official statement and send it to me in thirty minutes to fix for you.” 

 

Kit ended the calls and pushed himself up to rest against the headboard. He felt dumbfounded by the news, despite the positive reviews he and the show had been garnering. He felt bad that he hadn’t even asked if anyone else or the show itself had been nominated. Time enough for that later, he decided. By his side, Emilia squirmed until she was sitting next to him. 

 

“Kit…?” 

 

“I’ve been been nominated for a Lawrence Olivier award,” he breathed. 

 

“Yes!!!” Em exclaimed, grabbing him by his t-shirt and pulling him towards her for a kiss. “I knew it! I told you so! What did I tell you?” 

 

“You told me I was going to get nominated.” 

 

“I did! Oh my God, I’m so excited, I could wee.” 

 

“It feels surreal. I mean, when I got nominated for an Emmy I didn’t think I’d win. Same with the Globes, but-.” 

 

“You’re going to win. I know it. When are they?” 

 

“April fifth,” Kit replied after consulting his phone. 

 

“That’s not a lot of time to find a dress.” 

 

“A dress?” 

 

“Yeah, I can’t just buy one off the rack with a bod like this, you know.” 

 

“Em,” Kit laughed nervously. “It’s a week before the due date. You’re not-.” 

 

“If you dare say I’m not coming with you, I will slap you right now. The love of my life has been nominated for the most prestigious acting award the British stage has to offer. I’m going to be there.” 

 

Could he argue with that? He could, but Kit knew it would be futile. When Emilia Isobel Euphemia Rose Clarke made up her mind about something, it was difficult to convince her otherwise. She might very well change her own mind the closer they got to BCH’s impending arrival. He would be happy and proud to have her by his side on such an important night. It would help keep him calm and collected. It would also give him a reasonable excuse for not wanting to spend too much time, if any, at an after party. 

 

“Alright,” he said, putting his hands up. “I won’t stop you from coming. I plan on wearing black, so plan accordingly.” 

 

“I’ll give Petra a call tomorrow. I want to wear something by a British designer.” 

 

“I should get my arse out of bed and see if we were nominated for anything else.” 

 

“You know the show was nominated. It had to be. I’m insanely proud of you, Kit. Of all of you, but mostly you.” 

 

“Thanks, Em,” he replied, leaning over to give her a peck on the lips before climbing out of bed. “I don’t know if I could’ve done this without you.” 

 

“You absolutely could’ve,” Emilia said. “I’m just glad I’ve been along for the ride.” 

 

“Buckle up, because I’ve got a feeling we’re just getting started.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Fools Rush In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week until the due date. Kit and Emilia close on their cottage in Oxford. Kit surprises Emilia. Olivier Awards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back! Apologies for taking so very long, but...life. The good news is this penultimate chapter is a supersized one! Over 12k! Thanks to everyone who has asked me how things were going over the last month or so. I'm going to try very hard to not take as long the next time. 
> 
> This chapter absolutely would never have come together if not for someone who helped me out SO much and made sure I didn't settle on anything I wasn't 100% happy with. They know who they are and they have my unending gratitude. 
> 
> This chapter is for all the haters. I season my meals with the brine from your tears and quench my thirst with your whine. Stay classy. 
> 
> But really, this chapter is dedicated to the usual suspects, the NDC and those who have encouraged me along the way.
> 
> A VERY special thank you to Ellie for making a beautiful new moodboard for this chapter as well!

 

 

 

 

Emilia’s eyes opened slowly as she heard muffled conversation coming from downstairs. As she stretched, she could make out Kit’s voice. He was speaking to someone on the phone and from the sound of it, he didn’t sound very happy. _It’s too fucking early for this_ , she thought as she sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock. 

 

 _7:30 AM_  

 

“Not as bad as I thought,” she muttered, pushing herself up and padding into the loo before heading down the stairs. 

 

Kit waved at her from across the counter, still deep in conversation. 

 

“Tell them they can wait. I’m not leaving and flying out there.” 

 

 _Flying out where?_  

 

“There’s really no way around it?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I mean...yes. Tell them I’ll be there. I don’t really have a choice, do I? Yeah...bye.” 

 

“What was that about?” Emilia asked when he ended the call. “Flying out where?” 

 

“Los Angeles. My agent wants me to audition for a part.” 

 

“When?” 

 

“...Next week. Monday.” 

 

“Next week? I’m _due_ next week,” she said emphatically. 

 

“I know.” 

 

“I could go into labour at literally any minute.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“So you told them you’re not going, right?” 

 

“I’m going,” Kit said quietly. 

 

“You’re what?” 

 

“I have to go.” 

 

“I’m sorry, for a moment I thought you said that you have to go.” 

 

“I did. I’ll only be gone for a day or two.” 

 

Emilia could feel the colour rise in her face. Her cheeks burned and her ears felt hot. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing from him. The baby- _their baby_ \- would be there soon and he was talking about leaving the country. She didn’t even want him to go out of town, let alone fly to LA for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The closer they got to the arrival of BCH, the more anxious she became, and the more she needed him with her. 

 

“What the actual fuck, Kit?” 

 

“Emilia, I-” 

 

“No,” she stopped him, holding her hand up. “I don’t want to hear a fucking excuse about this.” 

 

“It’s a Scorsese film, Em. Scorsese! He wants me to read for a part. How can I pass this up?” 

 

“I seriously can’t believe you’re even saying this to me right now. I don’t believe you. You _have_ to be shitting me.” 

 

“I’m not. This could be so awesome for us. BCH will wait for me.” 

 

“You don’t know that!” 

 

She turned on her heels and stormed back up the stairs as quickly as she could with Kit close behind her. The journey from the kitchen to the bedroom was enough to leave her winded by the time she reached her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found the name of Kit’s agent. 

 

“What are you doing?” Kit asked as she put the phone up to her ear. “Emilia?” 

 

“Getting to the bottom of this,” she hissed as it rang. She had called the direct line. No secretaries, thank you very much. 

 

“Emilia!” his agent bellowed from the other end of the line. “I take it Kit’s told you the good news.” 

 

“What the flying fuck are you talking about? How is this good news?” 

 

“A new Scorsese film! And Kit could be the star!” 

 

“Cut the bloody bullshit. You need to fix this. He can’t leave next week.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Emilia. I just don’t see a way around it. I’ve already arranged everything. He’ll fly out on Monday and be back by Wednesday. No big deal.” 

 

“It’s a huge fucking deal,” she snapped and ended the call. 

 

She tossed the phone onto the bed and put a hand on her lower back before chancing a glance at Kit. 

 

“I genuinely can’t even look at you right now.” 

 

“Em,” he replied, reaching for her but she stepped just out of reach. 

 

None of this made any sense. It was out of character for Kit to do something like this to her. Her anger subsided into deep confusion and hurt. They were in this _together_. He was supposed to be there with her every step of the way. What if something happened between now and then? 

 

“Emilia,” he tried again, more softly this time. 

 

“My due date is April eleventh,” she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “You’ll be gone from the sixth to the eighth.” 

 

“That’s right. That’s just five days away.” 

 

“What’s your plan if I go into labour?” 

 

“You won’t. Your due date is _ten days_ away.” 

 

“I just said when the bloody due date was. I asked you what your plan was, Kit.” 

 

“I guess I’ll hop on the earliest flight I can catch and come home.” 

 

“You _guess_?” 

 

“I will. But you won’t go into labour.” 

 

“You don’t know that!” 

 

“You’re due the eleventh,” he said matter of factly. “Today’s the first.” 

 

“What is with you repeating dates and numbers like you’re goddamn Rain Man?!” 

 

He had the audacity to laugh at her and she was ready to clock him in the mouth. 

 

“What’s today, Emilia?” 

 

“You just said it was April first.” 

 

“April first,” he nodded, suppressing another laugh.

 

 _April first_ , she thought and she felt like one of the cartoon characters in a movie with a lightbulb going off over their head. Today was April Fool’s Day. Kit’s favorite holiday. 

 

“I hate you,” she replied, shaking her head. 

 

“I’m slightly wounded that you think I would leave you like that.” 

 

“It’s early in the morning! I knew you would pull something like this.” 

 

Emilia had even set an alarm for herself that day to _remind_ herself of what day it was and what shenanigans he would be up to. The only problem with her plan lay in the fact that she set her alarm for nine o’clock that morning. He was an hour and a half earlier than she expected him to be. She had to hand it to him, going with Scorsese as the director had been a crucial detail. He knew how badly she wanted to work with the acclaimed director at some point in her career. Using his name would ensure that she might go along with the plan instead of flat out refusing him. 

 

“I clued in my agent in. Mariana, too. I figured you’d call one if not both of them.” 

 

“You really had me going there,” she laughed as she sank down onto the bed and put her hand to her heart. It was still beating a mile a minute. “Caught me off guard and everything” 

 

“I wish I would’ve filmed your reaction,” he said and he plopped down next to her and wrapped his arm around her back. “You’re a good sport, you know that?” 

 

“I’m just pissed I didn’t think of something to do first. I’m surprised you didn’t send me into early labour or something.” 

 

“It’s useless to try and think of something now. My alert will be up all day now. There’s always next year. Happy April Fool’s Day, love.” 

 

***

 

“Emilia, I’m getting ready to leave, but I can’t seem to find my wallet,” Kit said as he passed through the lounge on his way to the kitchen. She was curled up- as much as she could be- in her favorite chair, using her bump as a bookrest. 

 

She had purchased the “chair and a half” hybrid chair in the fall when she would come home from long days of shooting _Let Me Count the Ways_ and decided that neither the sofa nor her old chair was nearly comfortable enough for her tired, sore, and weary body. It was large enough that they could both fit on it if they were cuddled in close, though lately she would often spread out on it, rearranging herself and the pillows into all sorts of different positions to help her get comfortable.  

 

“Have you checked your satchel?” she asked, not even glancing up from her book. 

 

“It’s not there.” 

 

“Dresser?”

 

“Nope.” 

 

“What was the last jacket you were wearing?” 

 

“Em, did you take my wallet?” 

 

“Why would I take your wallet?” 

 

“Em?” he asked, leaning over the back of the chair so that he was looking at her upside down. 

 

“It’s in the fridge.” 

 

Kit shook his head as he retrieved his slightly chilly wallet from the fridge and slid it into his back pocket. He had to hand it to her, she put in the smallest amount of effort possible and for a split second he had worried her might’ve lost it or left it at the theatre the night before. Still, it was such an amateur prank. He would have to impart some of his wisdom upon her before next year rolled around. 

 

“Can I get you anything while I’m in here before I leave?” he called. 

 

“Do you have a minute to fill the hot water bottle?” she replied. “I put the electric kettle on before I sat down. Now I’m too comfy.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

He made quick work of filling the bottle for her and wrapped a kitchen towel around it so that it wasn’t too hot before taking it into her. 

 

“Everything alright?” he asked, his brow scrunching in concern. 

 

“Yeah,” she replied, a wince cracking through her smile as she sat up and positioned the water bottle where it was needed. “My back is just a little more sore than usual. That’s all. I must’ve slept funny on it.” 

 

“When I get home tonight I’ll work on it for you.” 

 

“I’m thinking I might be asleep when you get home tonight.” 

 

“Are you sure you’re alright? I could stay home.” 

 

“What? Why? Because I’m _tired_? Don’t be ridiculous. Now give me a kiss and get going.” 

 

He bent low to kiss her, letting his knuckles drag over her belly before he stood up and slung his satchel across his body. Something inside him felt bad leaving her, but she insisted that she was fine. It was a nice day for a change and he was tempted to walk through Islington a bit before picking up a black cab to the theatre. 

 

Kit sent Emilia a text message just before he went on, telling her about all of the little pranks that his castmates had tried to play. Switching the dressing room placards between the matinee and evening shows. Putting things upside down. Putting prop bottles of water in his fridge. All things that made him laugh. It had been a long time since he had so much fun with a cast. He and Johnny had a great time together doing _True West_ but that cast had been tiny compared to the cast he was currently working with. He would be sad to part with them when the show closed in mid-May. 

 

_Kit: Anyway, hope you’re feeling better. X_

 

When he came back to his dressing room during intermission he checked his phone. He usually kept his phone in his bag for the entirety of the show. It could be an unwanted distraction, but when Emilia had entered the ninth month he started leaving it out. They had also started sharing each other’s location via their phones as well. Just in case. He noticed that she sent him a text and a photo not long after the show started. 

 

_Emilia: gonna take a bath up in here._

 

She was wearing just her robe and had it hanging off one of her shoulders while she made a ridiculous kissy face at the camera. He hoped it meant she was feeling better. _She must be out by now,_ he thought as he glanced at his watch. He could picture her, stretched out on the bed with Roxy by her side watching _Bake Off_ until she fell asleep. Kit slid his phone back into his bag and double checked his makeup and hair before heading out of his dressing room. 

 

Once the show had ended for the night and he had scrubbed off the sweat and stage makeup he changed back into his own clothes. Maybe he would stop on the way home at one of the cafes that were open late to see if they had anything she might like for a late-night snack. He was kicking himself for not sending someone out earlier to get something. It was no matter though. Tescos would do in a pinch. What they lacked in quality, they made up for in convenience, and one hardly noted the quality of pastries the later into the night they were consumed. 

 

Kit pulled his phone out of his satchel and his heart immediately leapt into his throat. 

 

_3 missed calls. 11 text messages._

 

All from Emilia. All sporadically placed. She almost never texted him when she knew he was already in the show, opting instead to wait until she knew he was on his way home. 

 

_Emilia: I know you’re on stage but I think something’s not right. (21:07)_

 

_E: I think I had a contraction (21:07)_

 

_E: Not like th (21:08)_

 

_E: not like the fake ones I had (21:10)_

 

_E: Like a really REAL contraction (21:10)_

 

_E: Fuck it hurt (21:11)_

 

_E: I think I just had another one (21:19)_

 

_E: I’m freaking out (21:19)_

 

_E: this cant be happening yet (21:20)_

 

_E: im calling my mum  (21:21)_

 

_E: im not ready (21:21)_

 

_E: my fucking bag isn’t even packed (21:22)_

 

_E: i think it stopped (21:31)_

 

_E: fuck they did not stop (21:35)_

 

_E: i dont want to have bch at home (21:37)_

 

Kit’s fingers moved furiously over his screen as he composed a response, bumping into people as he jogged through the backstage corridors. 

 

_Kit: hang on. I’m on my way. (22:20)_

 

_K: I’ll be there as fast as I can. (22:20)_

 

“I need a cab!” he yelled to the security at the stage door. 

 

“You’re not signing tonight?” 

 

“No, I’ve got a family emergency.” 

 

He tried dialing her number but she wasn’t answering. He checked his phone again and had no new messages from her. The last one he had received was some fifteen minutes ago. Now, nothing. 

 

Within moments, security had hailed him a cab and he was anxiously on his way home. A twenty minute cab ride lay ahead of him and Emilia wouldn’t answer her phone. It kept kicking him to her voicemail. Remembering through a fog of desperate thoughts and fear that she had rang her mum, he dialed Jenny’s number next. 

 

“Hello?” she answered. 

 

“Jenny! Thank God. Are you at the house yet? Is she alright?” 

 

“No, I’m still driving. About twenty-five minutes away. I’ve got to concentrate on the road because I’ll crash this car. I talked her down some and told her to call the midwife.” 

 

“Okay, we’ll see you soon.”

 

Kit exhaled a long held breath and leaned back against the headrest. _She’s probably on the phone with the midwife. That’s why she’s not answering,_ the rational part of his brain calmly explained. _She knows you’re on your way home. Babies take a long time...don’t they?_

 

The events of the day came rushing back to his mind. Her back had been sore. She was tired and feeling off. Maybe she had been in labour for longer than she realized. He suddenly felt guilty for leaving her at home. If he had been with her, they would be safely on their way to the hospital, or at the very least, she wouldn’t be alone. 

 

The black cab turned onto High Street near Angel Station and screeched to a halt, stuck in a line of unmoving traffic. 

 

“What’s going on?” Kit asked, peering through the windshield to get a look at the bumper to bumper line of cars. 

 

“What’s it look like, mate?” the driver replied. “Traffic jam.” 

 

“It’s a Wednesday night.” 

 

“Must be an accident or some other hold up. Don’t worry, we’ll still get you where you need to go.” 

 

Kit reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He didn’t have time for this shit. He checked the price of the fare and thrust a handful of notes towards the cabbie. 

 

“This should more than cover the original cost of the fare.” 

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

The words were lost in the wind as Kit bolted from the cab and took off running up High Street towards the house. He was less than half a mile away when he broke out into a sprint, his lungs grateful that he had given up smoking. People on the street must’ve thought he looked like a madman or a thief, but he didn’t have time to care. 

 

He rounded the corner onto her street and could see the house looming in front of him. Shoes slid on the stone sidewalk and he nearly tripped over his feet and tumbled to the ground, but he caught himself. Fumbling for his keys, he unlocked the door that led to her garden and pushed open the door.

 

 He let himself into her house and found Emilia bracing herself on the side of the kitchen counter. She had her phone held up to her ear, tears were streaming down her face. They were more than enough to unnerve him. 

 

“Em,” he panted, nearly doubling over from the effort it took to run from the cab to the house. “I’m sorry. I’m here now.” 

 

“Oh my God,” she choked. “Chelsea, Kit’s here now… Yes, I remember what you said… Head to the hospital when my contractions are more regular and coming ever four to five minutes. We’ll call you before we leave. Thanks for staying with me until he got home.” 

 

“Are you okay?” he asked once she hung up the phone. 

 

“I think I’m more scared than anything else. I’m literally freaking out.” 

 

“When did they start?” 

 

“I was out of the tub and trying to get dressed and I thought I tweaked something, but it was really persistent for a bit and then it went away. And then it came back. I felt like it took my breath away. That’s when I text you. I knew you wouldn’t respond. I just didn’t know what to do. I went into freak out mode.” 

 

Kit couldn’t ever remember a time when Emilia looked so genuinely terrified. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were tearstained. It scared the everloving shit out of him. He couldn’t let her know that. When her face contorted and she doubled over in pain once again as another contraction hit her, it took a moment for him to spring into action. 

 

He stepped closer to her and wrapped one arm around her, while his other hand covered her white knuckles where the grasped onto the counter. 

 

“Take my hand,” he offered. She obliged and squeezed his hand until he felt like his knuckles would fuse together. “Take a deep breath, Emilia.” 

 

“Piss. Shit. Fuck,” she swore as she exhaled the deep breath she took. 

 

Her grip on his hand loosened and she dropped her head forward as the contraction subsided. 

 

“What else can I do? Just tell me what you want me to do,” Kit stammered. “Do you need water? A cool rag for your forehead?” 

 

“I need to pack my bag, but I don’t think I can make it up the stairs.” 

 

“I’ll get it for you. What do you need in it?” 

 

“Go in the closet and get the bag off the top shelf.” 

 

“The one that looks like Mary Poppins’s bag?” 

 

“Yeah. In the bathroom, under the vanity, is my toiletry bag. Make that that goes in there. Grab a clean sleepshirt out of the dresser, a pair of yoga pants and a couple of shirts. Socks, knickers, and one of my new bras.” 

 

“They’re in there?” 

 

“Yeah, all the way on the right. And toss in some clothes for you if there’s room.” 

 

“Right,” he nodded and kissed her forehead. 

 

Kit raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He retrieved the toiletry bag from the bathroom first and carried it into the bedroom. The overnight bag was easy enough to find. He tossed a pair of trainers into it even though she hadn’t asked for them. Next, came the clothes, first hers and then his. He was going through a mental checklist when he heard her yell at him from the kitchen. 

 

“Kit!” 

 

Overnight bag be damned. If there was anything he missed, they could always send Jenny or Ben to fetch them the next day. He flew down the stairs and his mouth fell open as he looked at her. 

 

“I think my water’s broke,” she practically whispered, glancing down to where her bare feet stood in a puddle of water. 

 

“Shit. We should go right?” 

 

“The contractions aren’t quite at five minutes but-.” 

 

“Emilia, I think we should go. I had to fucking sprint here because traffic was a nightmare and our baby is not going to be born in the back of an Audi.” 

 

“Okay,” she agreed, taking a shaky breath. “Okay. I can’t wear this to the hospital now.” 

 

“I’ll run and grab my sweatpants.” 

 

“Right. And some towels.” 

 

“And some towels,” he repeated and turned towards the stairs again. 

 

“Oh! Kit, one more thing.” 

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“April Fool’s Day.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“April-fucking-Fool’s Day, wanker,” she smiled, standing up straight and wiping her face with her hands. 

 

 _No_ , he thought. He had never been bested on April Fool’s Day. It wasn’t something that happened. Not to him. He was completely flabbergasted, caught off guard, taken by surprise, and insanely proud at the same time. 

 

“You...you’re _not_ actually in labour?” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

Kit tossed the bag onto the counter and stood in front of her. Dropping down, he prostrated himself before her as if he was paying homage to a deity. 

 

“I’m not worthy,” he said. 

 

“What can I say? You inspired me to rise to the challenge. Get up here.” 

 

He stood back up again and shook his head in disbelief. He should’ve known better. He had been ready and waiting for pranks all day long, but he never believed she would use his own child against him. It was brilliant. Years from now they would tell BCH about this day. 

 

“How long were you planning this?” 

 

“You know earlier today when I said that I was surprised that you didn’t send me into early labour? Since then. Everything else was part of the plan.” 

 

“The wallet in the fridge?” 

 

“A diversion so you would think I was shit at playing pranks.” 

 

“The sore back?” 

 

“No more twingey than usual.” 

 

“The bath?” 

 

“Oh no,” she laughed. “I definitely took a bath tonight.” 

 

“You got your mom in on it? And the midwife, too?” 

 

“Yes to my mom. She was all too happy to play along. I wasn’t even talk to anyone on the phone when you came in.” 

 

“The tears were so real though!” 

 

“Kit, darling, we’re actors. I checked your location on the phone and when you started moving _very_ quickly up High Street, I turned on the waterworks. Rubbed my eyes beforehand to make them look red.” 

 

“I can’t believe you’ve outdone me. I might have to reconsider my life choices. Much to think about.” 

 

“Are you upset with me?” 

 

“Upset?! I’m bloody proud of you.” 

 

“Oh good,” Emilia chirped, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Then I suppose you won’t mind cleaning up the water on the floor?” 

 

* * *

 

**April 2**

 

“I’m going to text my mum to see if she’s around and wants to come see it.” 

 

They had just finished up signing the paperwork on the cottage in Oxford that morning and Emilia was anxious to let her mother in on the secret she had been keeping from her. It was difficult to hide the fact that they were moving ten minutes away from her. 

 

_Emilia: Mum, are you around? Kit and I have a surprise for you._

 

_Jenny: Yes…should I be nervous? Last time you said that you told me you were pregnant._

 

_Emilia: No! It’s good news. Can you meet us at the following address?_

 

Emilia sent her mother the address to the cottage and slid her phone into her back pocket. Her mum was right, as usual. Last September, after they had been to the first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that she was indeed pregnant, they had driven to Oxford to tell Jenny the news. 

 

***

**_September 2019_ **

 

_“You’re really quiet,” Kit observed as he glanced over at Emilia. They were currently on the motorway halfway between London and Oxford. “It’s a little unnerving.”_

 

_“Am I?” she replied and offered him a slight smile. “Just nervous I guess.”_

 

_She couldn’t tell if the slightly queasy feeling was from nerves or from morning sickness. The had been to the doctor the previous day, Kit rather adorably insisting on coming with her, although she told him it wasn’t necessary. The doctor confirmed what Emilia already knew, she was two months along and the baby was due in early April. The eleventh of April, to be exact. They had gone back to her house and downloaded baby apps onto their phones._

 

_“It’s the size of a raspberry,” Kit had mused._

 

 _“I hate calling it...well,_ _it_ _.”_

 

_“Well what should we call baby Clarke-Harington?”_

 

_“I haven’t a clue. A cute name?”_

 

_“Maybe an abbreviation?” he offered. “What about BCH?”_

 

_“I like that,” Emilia nodded and then promptly turned tail to run to the bathroom._

 

_‘Morning sickness my ass,’ she thought._

 

 _She wanted to tell her mother sooner, rather than later. They would be leaving for Los Angeles in a couple weeks for the Emmys and she wanted her to know before then. Now, here they were driving out to her house. Her mind raced with the various possibilities of how the conversation might go. It wasn’t as if she was a teenager or even in her early twenties. She would be thirty-three in October. She was a more established actress with her biggest role behind her and her brightest ones ahead of her. In many ways, the timing of it all couldn’t have worked out more to her benefit. Once she finished filming_ _Let Me Count the Ways_ _in the fall and once the press tour for_ _Last Christmas_ _was behind her, she didn’t have any work obligations. She planned to work on adapting at least one of the novels she purchased the rights to and take time for herself._

 

_‘Still,’ Emilia thought. ‘There is something slightly terrifying about telling your mother that you’re pregnant and that your best friend, boyfriend, man who isn’t technically divorced yet, lover- fuck it, love of your life-  is the father.’_

 

_Her mum knew that she went to Greece with Kit, forgoing her usual summer holiday with friends in Italy or some other more exotic locale. She hadn’t questioned it and, of all people, knew how much Kit meant to her over the years. What her mother didn’t know was how romantically involved she and Kit had become again in just the span of a few months._

 

_Kit reached over and wedged one of his hands between hers clasped in her lap. He threaded their fingers together and gave a squeeze before lifting it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand._

 

_“It’ll be alright,” he assured her._

 

_“I think she’ll just mostly be shocked and I’m worried about what the first thing to fly out of her mouth will be.”_

 

_“And just think, we get to do this all again with my parents.”_

 

_“Don’t remind me,” Emilia groaned. “Can that happen, like, the day before we leave for LA?”_

 

_“That’ll be fine, too.”_

 

_She wasn’t so sure about that.  Her mother thought they were coming over for a late lunch and to show her pictures from their trip. All of that was true, but they would be telling her so much more than that. Emilia had never been able to hide things from her mother, at least not well. It was one of the few disadvantages to being so close to one another. She wanted to tell her sooner, rather than later. She couldn’t possibly sit through a lunch when she wasn’t even hungry to begin with, and just wait to tell her the news. With their luck, Jenny would sense something was off the minute they walked through the door._

 

_“Look how tan the two of you look!” she said and she greeted Emilia and Kit at the front door. “Shall we eat first or look at pictures?”_

 

_“Pictures,” Emilia said quickly. “Kit’s brought everything so he can hook it up to the telly.”_

 

_Emilia and Kit followed Jenny into the lounge where Kit got to work setting up his laptop. He had brought everything he needed to hook it up to the television. As her mother sat down next to her on the sofa, Emilia wondered if she could tell that she was pregnant. She her mother notice anything different about her? Did she suspect?_

 

_“Look how tan you are!” Jenny said as she put her glasses on. “You’ll certainly look sunkissed at the Emmys.”_

 

_“Are you sure you don’t mind be bringing Ben this year?” Emilia asked._

 

_“Of course I don’t mind. I think it’s very sweet of you to be taking him.”_

 

_“He worked so hard along with the rest of the crew. It just feels right.”_

 

_Of course, that was only part of the reason she was bringing her brother. The other part of the reason was that she would’ve felt bad ditching her Mum to go back to her house while she went to all of the after parties. In addition, there was Kit to consider. He would be staying at her house as well and with everything still being so new, she wanted to avoid as much awkwardness as possible. He was bringing his friend Jack to the Emmys. The table was set for both of them to be able to spend as much time as they wanted together at the after parties._

 

_“All set,” Kit said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. She adored him when he wore his Harry Potter glasses._

 

_They had only been home a week and Kit had already managed to edit the hundreds of photographs he took. He was meticulous when it came to organizing his photos. He chose a selection of his favorite to bring with him that day. Emilia told him that he should really consider compiling some of his best shots to create a coffee table book. If he didn’t do it, she might have to take it upon herself to do it for him._

 

_Emilia was uncharacteristically quiet as Kit flipped through the pictures, providing a narrative on their trip as he went along and fielding her mum’s questions like a pro. She couldn’t believe how quaint the house they stayed in was, how rustically beautiful. Her nerves slowly, but surely began to fray as he continued to talk. No, she couldn’t wait until lunch to tell her mum. She couldn’t even wait another second._

 

_“Look how beautiful that beach is. The water is so blue.”_

 

_“I think he took that one the day we found out I was pregnant. Right, Kit?”_

 

_“Uhhh…” he replied, gobsmacked as he held his laptop in his hand and switched to the next picture._

 

_“I’m sure it is,” Emilia continued, words spilling from her mouth so fast that it was impossible for her brain to keep up. “Because I was still wearing your hat that you lent me when I went to the chemist’s to buy the test.”_

 

_“You’re pregnant?” her mother asked. She braced herself for the look of disappointment she had convinced herself would be evident on her mum’s face, but found nothing of the sort. Instead, it was painted with a quizzical smile. “Really?”_

 

_“Really,” she nodded. “Kit and I are having a baby. Obviously, it wasn’t something that we planned, but we’re both really excited.”_

 

_“I’m going to be a Nan?”_

 

_“Yeah. Crazy, right?”_

 

_“The best kind of crazy,” Jenny said and put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, resting her forehead against hers. “When?”_

 

_“April,” Kit replied._

 

_“So obviously we aren’t spreading the word around any time soon,” Emilia added. “Or at all, really.”_

 

_“And the two of you are...together?”_

 

_“We are.”_

 

_He had answered her mother before she ever got the chance. He answered for the both of them without hesitation and she loved him all the more for it._

 

_“When you went to Greece together, I thought something might be going on between the two of you, but I didn’t want to pry.”_

 

_“This is something I’d want, no matter what, Mrs. Clarke.”_

 

_“Oh please, Christopher. I think you can call me Jenny now.”_

 

 _“But only if you call me, Kit._ _Please_ _.”_

 

***

 

Within less than fifteen minutes, Emilia saw her mother’s car pull into the long drive and up to the house. She watched through the front window as her mum got out of the car, looked at the house, checked her phone, and began to walk to the front door. 

 

Kit opened the door before Jenny even had a chance to knock and held it open for her. 

 

“What’s this all about?” she asked. “Where are we?” 

 

“Welcome to our new country cottage,” Emilia beamed. She held her arms out wide, gesturing for her mum to look around. 

 

“This is yours?” 

 

“We just closed on it today,” Kit replied. He wrapped his arm around Emilia and hugged her into his side. “Since I won’t be keeping the house in Suffolk we decided to get a little place for ourselves. Nothing huge or grand. This is closer for my parents than Suffolk and, obviously, it’s pretty close for you.” 

 

“We’re planning on spending the summer here and most holidays as well.” 

 

“Oh how lovely. You closed on it not a moment too soon.” 

 

“I know,” Em agreed. “We’ve already ordered furniture. It just has to be delivered, but we probably won’t even spend the night here until late May or June. We’re having painters come in as well.” 

 

“I might come out a few times before that,” Kit said. “Maybe I can get a few things planted in the garden.” 

 

Emilia took charge of giving her mum a tour through the house, while Kit began changing the locks on the front door. As they moved from room to room, she watched Jenny’s expression for signs of approval. When she bought her home in Islington the previous year, she had brought her mother and brother along with her for some of the walk throughs. For all of her experience, Emilia didn’t have the same level of experience as her mum. She valued her opinion and could count on her for an honest one. 

 

“Well?” she asked once they returned to the kitchen. “What do you think?” 

 

“It’s almost like something out of a fairytale isn’t it? The garden is exceptional as well. I think it’s perfect for the two of you. Well, for the three of you very soon.” 

 

“Uh yeah, speaking of that,” Kit said, closing the door and testing the handle. “I have a bone to pick with you, Jenny.” 

 

“Me? Whatever did I do?” 

 

“How could you go along with her plan to trick me the other day? I thought we were a team!” 

 

“Oh we are darling,” Jenny replied. “But when Emilia rang me up and told me what you’d done to her that morning and then told me about her plan, I couldn’t not be a part of it.” 

 

“I see how it is.” 

 

“Had I know I was going to be invited to your new country home, I would’ve brought a housewarming gift.” 

 

“Oh mum,” Emilia waved her hand. “There’s really no need.” 

 

“How about this for a gift? It’s a promise. I promise not to pop by unannounced or uninvited even though it’s quite literally just down the road from me.” 

 

“I can’t wait until BCH is old enough to take walks and rides down the road to your house.” 

 

“Have the two of you eaten anything for lunch?” Jenny asked. 

 

“No,” Kit replied. “We didn’t bring any groceries with us since we’re not staying just yet. We figured we’d get something from a pub in town before heading back to London.” 

 

“Nonsense. You’re coming back to my house and I’ll fix up something for you. I won’t take no for an answer.” 

 

* * *

 

**April 3**

 

Emilia stepped into her house through the door that led to the garden, shaking her umbrella off outside before closing it and dropping it into the bin. She hung up her coat on the hook next to Kit’s beige hat and caught the smell of something delicious wafting through the air. Her stomach rumbled as she followed her nose from the backdoor to the kitchen where she saw Kit opening boxes of food. 

 

“Shit,” he swore. “Damnit Emilia, I didn’t think you’d be home yet.” 

 

“What’s all this?” she gestured to the bags of food on the counter. 

 

“It was meant to be a surprise.” 

 

“I can close my eyes…” 

 

“Well you’ve seen it already.” 

 

“I’m sorry, darling. What would you like me to do.” 

 

Kit wiped his hands on a napkin and tossed it onto the table. She could tell he was disappointed about the ruined surprised. If she had come through the front door, none of this would’ve happened. As it was, she foiled his plan. He let out a sigh and walked over to where she had frozen in motion and dropped a kiss to her forehead. 

 

“Can you wait in the dining room and give me about ten minutes?” 

 

“Of course. I’ll make an obligatory stop in the loo, wash up, and kick these shoes off and then I’ll be back down.” 

 

Emilia tried not to notice the name of one of her favorite restaurants on the bags that littered the kitchen counter and she tried even harder not to sneak a glimpse at what she hoped was a box of pastries as she slipped out of the kitchen. It was Kit’s evening off from the show and she really hadn’t expected him to surprise her in such a way while she had been off being fitted for the final time for the dress she would be wearing to the Olivier Awards later that week. 

 

Normally, on his day off they would hole up at home, order take-out to be delivered and indulge themselves in a little telly or something on Netflix. One week, Emilia changed out of her pyjamas to put on a different pair of pyjamas. They wore their glasses and she didn’t bother with makeup. They’d tuck in on the sofa for a nap. Once, she had roped him into one of her cleaning projects. The baby books called it nesting, but Emilia just wanted her house to be fucking clean and tidy before BCH arrived. 

 

The due date loomed under two weeks away. For the month leading up to the birth she had weekly check-ins with the doctor to make sure everything was fine. A benefit to Kit working at night had been that he was able to accompany her to most visits, no matter how routine they were. She didn’t know what was more exciting, watching BCH on the sonogram, or Kit’s face as he watched. It was slightly daunting to think that they had somehow moved into the timeframe where the baby could come at any time. 

 

“You’ll probably go late with the first one,” her mother had predicted. “A lot of women do. I did with your brother. Ben was almost two bloody weeks late.” 

 

It was a running joke in the family that her brother’s tardiness in arriving had been the sole reason why Emilia was the favorite child. 

 

By the time she made it back down to the dining room, Kit had everything laid out on the table. He’d used her good china and silverware, lit candles and even put out the crystal champagne flutes for their sparkling water. She let him pull her chair out for her before he took his own seat and poured water in each of their glasses. 

 

“Kit, should I know what this is all about?” she asked. “Please don’t tell me I went baby-brained again and forgot something important.” 

 

“You didn’t forget anything,” he reassured her. “In fact, I didn’t even know what today would be until I got home from having lunch with mum.” 

 

“Okay…” 

 

He reached into his back pocket pulled out a plain white envelope. It had already been opened or had not been sealed. Emilia took the envelope from his outstretched hand and he nodded at her to open it. She withdrew the documents contained inside, an officially signed and stamped decree absolute, or final order of divorce. Her face fell. 

 

“Oh Kit,” she sighed. 

 

“Don’t say it like that,” he replied, taking the papers she offered back to him. “This is good for us.” 

 

“It still seems odd to be celebrating it. It’s a relief to know it’s final, but…” 

 

“I was more upset when we actually filed than I am now. I’ve had a lot of time to move on and make peace of it. I have a future ahead of me, _we_ have a future ahead of us and now there’s nothing impeding that. I’m not celebrating a divorce. I’m celebrating the freedom to have a future.” 

 

“Then perhaps we should have a toast,” Emilia said, picking up her champagne flute and raising it to him. He held his up as well. “To the future.” 

 

“To the future.” 

 

***

 

“I’m perfectly capable of clearing the table,” Emilia said, swerving away from Kit’s attempt to take the plate from her hand as she carried dishes into the kitchen. 

 

“I never said that you weren’t,” he replied as he followed her, trailing behind with a few other empty plates. “I told you it wasn’t necessary for you to clear the table.” 

 

“Many hands make light work. That’s what my mum always used to say.” 

 

“Mine, too. But you shouldn’t have to clean up your own surprise.” 

 

“It’s my way of showing you how thankful I am for the surprise.” 

 

She bent down to scrape a few of the leftovers into Roxy’s dish and winced as she straightened back up again. 

 

“Alright?” Kit asked. 

 

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, pressing her hands into her lower back as she tried to stretch it out. 

 

“Sore?” 

 

“Is it a day that ends in _y_?” 

 

Kit frowned and placed the plate he was holding into the sink as Emilia pressed her hand into her lower back and tried to stretch it out. He moved her hand away and replaced it with his own until he heard a light moan pass her lips. Looking around the kitchen at the mess he had created, Kit decided to forgo the cleanup. She was more important. 

 

“Come here,” he said, taking her hand into his own and leading her towards the stairs. 

 

“Where are we going?” she asked with a quizzical raise of her eyebrows. 

 

“It’s a surprise.” 

 

He smiled, as if she couldn’t guess where he might be taking her in her own home. The possibilities weren’t exactly endless. They walked into the bedroom and he motioned for her to sit on the bed while he disappeared into the en suite. It killed him to see her in pain or discomfort, no matter how much she tried to downplay it. She was carrying their child, up late at night, up in the _middle_ of the night, tired and achy, and sometimes more than slightly cranky because of it. It was the very least he could do to try and alleviate her pain when and if he could. 

 

The master bathroom was nearly as spacious as the adjoining bedroom. After the time they spent in Los Angeles, he was hopeful that he could convince her to add a bench to the shower. That bathroom was one of the only rooms she didn’t change or complete redecorate upon moving in, having just been updated before Em moved in. 

 

Kit opened a cabinet and found the two glass bottles her was looking for. One contained Vitamin E oil and the other was a lavender scented massage oil he’d found online that was one hundred percent safe to use. He’d checked that, too. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off before making his way back into the bedroom. 

 

Emilia was sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard, deliciously undressed all the way down to her bra and knickers, and purposefully twiddling her thumbs as they sat perched upon her belly. He hadn’t expected that and stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. She must’ve noticed the dumb expression on his face because she merely smiled and shook her head. 

 

“I decided to undress to the level of your comfort,” she said and gestured to herself from head to toe, like a model on one of those game shows displaying a fabulous prize. 

 

 _She really has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is,”_ Kit thought as he tried to remember how to walk. 

 

Em’s pregnancy had brought with it a plethora of surprises, but the most curious of them was what felt to Kit like a sudden self-consciousness of her body that he simply could not comprehend. Not even a little bit. She had taken his breath away the minute he first laid eyes on her when she walked into the bar at the Fitzwilliam hotel in Belfast. He had seen her gussied up to the nines on red carpets and he had seen her hooked up to monitors in the hospital and every way in between. It didn’t seem possible to him that she could be any more beautiful than she already was, but that fall and winter made him love her even more. She had made fun of him and called him pervy until he snapped at her one day, but he couldn’t help himself.

 

 There was something about seeing the woman he loved carrying their child that made her even more irresistible to him. Where she saw flaws, he saw perfection. If she complained about her ass getting wider or her tits getting bigger, he would tell her that there was just more of her for him to grab onto. Lying to her was useless. On a woman as petite as Emilia, the subtle changes were more obvious, but she had accepted his words at face value and seemed placated. 

 

When she started to show he felt an odd sense of pride about it. He always hated when she had to hide her bump beneath a large jumper or dress. He spent many nights lying with her on the sofa with his head tucked between her breasts and belly. He wanted to be as close to her as he could possibly get. It was unfair that she could feel BCH all the time, although she often told him that he wouldn’t think that if he was the one being kicked in the ribs. Fair enough. 

 

“You’re staring, darling,” Emilia said. 

 

“Can’t help it,” Kit shrugged. He set the oils on the nightstand and crawled onto the bed. “Not sure if I want to. You’re a bloody tease.” 

 

“Who me?” she batted her eyelashes. “Absurd. And look who’s talking. You came waltzing in here with oils in your hand, dressed in nothing but jeans. Did you walk off the cover of a romance novel?” 

 

“I didn’t want to get my shirt dirty.” 

 

“Lose the trousers. You know you will eventually anyway.” 

 

Kit made quick work of ridding himself of the denim and reached for the bottle of Vitamin E oil. Emilia was fastidious when it came to applying it to her belly every night to help prevent stretch marks, not that he’d noticed any. 

 

He placed his hand on the curve of her stomach before bending down and pressing his lips against it. It was hard to imagine that in a matter of days they would be holding their child in their arms. He knew he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t slightly terrified. They were prepared, the nursery was ready, and their friends and family had showered them gifts- and advice-, but a part of him still worried that he would be inadequate. 

 

Children had always been something he wanted, he just supposed they would come along at a different time. He thought he’d have a year or so of marriage under his belt, but life clearly had other plans for them. There would be people who said he and Emilia were only together because of their child, but those people were clearly ignorant of the bond and love they shared for one another for a decade. 

 

Sitting back on his heels, Kit opened the bottle. He tipped it over and let a small amount drizzle onto her body, watching her squirm when it came in contact with her taut skin. 

 

“It’s not even cold,” he scoffed as he began to spread it around with his hand.

 

“Sure it was,” she replied, helping him rub it in until it was almost completely absorbed. 

 

“Sit up.” 

 

“Hmmm?” 

 

“Up,” Kit repeated. He tugged lightly on her arm. “And scoot forward. I’m going to work on your shoulders and back.” 

 

“Ooooh _yes_.” 

 

Emilia inched herself forward on the bed and Kit slid in behind her, situating himself so that she was sitting between his legs. He switched the Vitamin E oil for the massage oil, poured a small amount into his hands, and rubbed them together. When he placed his hands onto her shoulders and lightly pressed his thumbs into the base of her neck, she let her head lull forward. He hummed as he began to massage her shoulders and neck, sometimes using his knuckles and alternating pressure as he worked. 

 

She rested her hands on his thighs and leaned forward, arching her back when he started to move his way down her spine. They fell into a routine of sorts. Some nights, when they were lying in bed, he would set his fingers to work without being asked. Other times, she would walk up to him, flash him a look, and turn her back towards him. That was his cue to work on whatever knot might be bothering her. If her legs were propped in his lap, her calves and feet got the same treatment. 

 

His hands drifted down her back until her reached the top of her knickers and he walked them back up again. 

 

“Good?” he asked, slipping a finger under the band of her bra. 

 

“Yep,” she nodded. 

 

He slowly unfastened one of the hooks and dropped and open mouth kiss on her bare shoulder. 

 

“Still good?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Kit unfastened the last two hooks and leaned forward to kiss the side of her neck as 

he guided the straps down her arms. She dropped the bra onto the floor, leaving herself exposed to his touch. His hands crept around her body, fingers tip-toeing across her skin, until he gently cupped her breasts in his hands and waited patiently for her assent. 

 

Over the last eight months or so, he had re-learned just how she liked to be touched- _if_ she wanted to be touched- to bring her pleasure. Early on in her pregnancy, she would have punched him square in the jaw if he so much as thought about touching her breasts, tempting as they were. He deferred to her then, letting her guide him, too afraid that he would inadvertently do something to hurt her. 

 

She covered his hands with her own and nodded, prompting him to knead her breasts, feeling the weight of them as he pressed them together. When he rolled a hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger she craned her neck and reached behind his head to thread her fingers through his hair. Emilia’s nails massaged his scalp until she took hold of his curls and pulled his face down close to hers so that he could kiss her full lips. 

 

“Ow, fuck,” she cursed, abruptly pulling away from him. 

 

“Sorry. Was I too rough?” 

 

“No, _that_ felt amazing. I can’t keep kissing you like that or I’m going to undo all of the hard work you put in on my neck and shoulders. Sit back.” 

 

She used him as leverage to push herself up and turned around, settling back down with her legs straddling his and her arse settled firmly in his lap. 

 

“Better?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as his hands came to rest on her hips. 

 

“For now. We’ll see how long that lasts. Where were we?” 

 

Kit let one of his arms snake around behind her to hold her close while he palmed one of her breasts with his free hand. When Emilia rolled her hips he felt his cock twitch and harden from the friction she was creating. She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, continuing to grind against him until he moaned into her mouth. 

 

“Sorry, did you say something?” she asked upon breaking the kiss. Her indescribably blue eyes twinkled mischievously. 

 

He tucked the hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear and brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled and swore he saw her blush in response. 

 

“So you insist on telling me.” 

 

“You don’t believe me?” 

 

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say. But I believe you. You make me feel beautiful.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“And loved,” she continued, pecking at his lips. “And safe.” 

 

“Safe?” 

 

“You keep my heart safe. I trust you completely.” 

 

“You do the same for me, Em.” 

 

“I do?” 

 

“Of course. You’ve always had my back. You’ve always taken my side, even when I probably didn’t deserve it.” 

 

“It’s almost like I love you or something.” 

 

“Really? That’s funny because I love you, too. Will you go steady with me?” 

 

She laughed out loud and slapped at his chest. “Oh Kitten. I thought you’d never ask. I’ve always wanted to be in one of those American teen movies.” 

 

“Like, really?” he said, mimicking her infamous Valley Girl Accent. “Like no way. Tubular.” 

 

“Stop! Don’t make me laugh or I’m going to have to wee.” 

 

“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me, babe.” 

 

“Why are we like this?” 

 

“Because in a lot of ways we’re already past where most couples who have officially been together for less than a year are?” 

 

“We are, aren’t we?” 

 

“We don’t have to pretend or bullshit one another.”

 

“Couldn’t if we tried,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

 

“Do you still wanna...I mean, we don’t have to, but…” 

 

“No! I mean, yeah. I do. It’s just...my right foot’s fallen asleep.” 

 

“Oh damn,” Kit said, reaching down to rub at her calf. 

 

He gazed down at her as she settled back into her side and rearranged the pillows until she was comfortable. His eyes drifted from her face to her full breasts to the swell of her belly and back up again. She might always tease him for staring, but he truly never tired of looking at her. He had been hers for a long time, but they had both waited for this day to come, the day when he was free in every sense of the word. 

 

Kit wanted to worship every inch of her body, to somehow show her how happy she made him. Lying beside her, he brushed her hair away from her neck and pressed his lips to her pulse point, feeling her heartbeat quicken in response. His fingertips danced lazily from where they settled on her hips across her ribcage, tracing her tattoo, and back down again. 

 

“That tickles,” Emilia whispered, reaching back to place her hand on his thigh. 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, lying his palm flat on her stomach.

 

“I didn’t tell you to stop though…” 

 

That was the only encouragement Kit needed. He dragged his lips down her neck and across her collarbone, caressing her breasts the way he had done earlier, as she shifted until his touch. There was no part of her body he left unattended, whether with his hands or mouth, until her sighs of pleasure filled the room. 

 

“Kit,” she gasped, writhing against him as his fingertips traced nonsensical patterns on her inner thigh. 

 

“Hmmm?” he asked, lifting his head from the valley of her breasts to look up at her. 

 

Emilia regarded him through half-closed eyes and ran her hand over his matted curls and around to cup his cheek. He turned his head to kiss her palm. 

 

“Nothing…”

 

“Was there something you needed, my queen?” 

 

Emilia laughed at the phrase that had become the bane of his existence for much of season eight. Her chest rose and fell as she did so, tempting him to shower the skin laid bare before him with open mouth kisses. 

 

“Enough of _that_ ,” she replied, breath hitching when he dipped a finger between her folds. Knowing how ready she was only made him desire her more. 

 

“Of what?” he asked innocently, his thumb circling her clit. 

 

“You know I hate it when you call me that.” 

 

She was growing restless, shifting against his hand as he worked her tight bundle of nerves. 

 

“Forgive me, _love_.” 

 

“Better. Come here.” She reached for his wrist, halting his motions. “I need you.” 

 

Kit had never been able to deny her anything and he wasn’t about to start now. He drew himself back up to the head of the bed so he could kiss her when he joined their bodies together. As they moved in unison, it was not lost on him that this might be the last time they had a chance to make love in some time. They had reached the time when BCH could come at any time, the due date now stretching only ten days away. 

 

Emilia searched for his hand, twining their fingers together and squeezing it tightly. He pressed a kiss to the side of her face when she arched against him and rested the back of her head on his shoulder. 

 

“Okay?” he asked, slowing his already languid pace. 

 

“Mmhmmm,” she sighed and nuzzled her nose against his cheek. “Perfect, really.” 

  
“I love you, Em.” 

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

To that day, Kit wondered what he had ever done to deserve the privilege of loving Emilia and earning her love in return. Not only that, but knowing that she wanted to spend her life with _him_ , to have _his_ child when she could’ve been with anyone else was sometimes overwhelming. 

 

He had no idea what time it was when they both came apart in each other’s arms. Emilia had turned in his embrace and kissed his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and whispered a string of endearments into his ear before her eyes grew heavy and he encouraged her to sleep. Kit lay beside her for a long while, watching her breathing deepen and even out as she slipped deeper and deeper into sleep. Extricating himself from her side, he slid off the bed and quietly pulled on a pair of sweatpants.  He raked a hand through his messy hair as he slipped back down the stairs to the kitchen to finish tidying up. 

 

The dishes needed to be hand washed since he had used her china and good silverware, but he didn’t mind the extra effort. Glancing at the digital clock on the stove, he realized that he would just be getting home from the theatre on any other night. An early night in was probably for the best, especially with the Oliviers just three days away.

 

He was proud of himself for managing to pull off the surprise dinner. He had barely walked through the door after having lunch with his mum when the bell rang and the man delivered the envelope to him. Before he even opened it, he knew it was. He had been expecting it sometime soon. The divorce proceedings have gone along without a hitch since Emilia had met with Rose. Despite that, it seemed unlikely that it would be finalized before the baby arrived, but now it was a reality. A door to that chapter of their lives was closed for good. 

 

It was so easy to imagine how all of this could have been different. Had they not decided to risk it all and taken a chance, He wouldn’t have Emilia, wouldn’t be anxiously awaiting the birth of their first child together. Kit had always known he wanted children. When he became an actor, he knew that he might have to put one dream on hold to fulfill another. No matter what happened throughout the recent years, no matter who he was with, whenever he dreamed of his future children they always had Emilia’s stunning blue eyes and her pouty lips.  

 

Timing was a funny and fickle thing. He had always believed that he and Emilia had the worst timing imaginable. It had taken time for their love for one another to overlap perfectly and when it finally did they were not exactly free to act on it. Somewhere along the way he had learned that so much of timing had to do with the choices he made- jobs he took or didn’t take, where he chose to live and spend his time, who he wanted to spend his time and life with. 

 

A sense of contentedness settled over them once he returned from Connecticut and it had deepened once he formally filed for divorce. Even if they hadn’t planned on making their relationship public, they showed one another a level of commitment that had once been lacking for their relationships. She was his and he was hers. It led them to be carefree and, admittedly, not always careful in their lovemaking. Although it was paradoxical, he had been surprised but not shocked when the pregnancy test turned out a positive result in Greece. He knew it was a distinct possibility, yet he hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly for them. 

 

After he had finished the washing up, Kit grabbed his brown satchel from the hook by the back door. In the excitement of the afternoon and evening, he had nearly forgotten about what it contained. Taking it into the den, he set it down on his desk. When he had moved in with Emilia in the fall she had gifted him with a desk of his own, set up opposite of her desk in the room they used as a joint office of sorts. Business was conducted there and stayed there. 

 

Kit sat at the desk and unbuckled the satchel, reaching inside and feeling around for what he was looking for. His hand closed around a small, smooth, wooden box and he withdrew it from the bag. He turned it over in his hands a few times before opening it to reveal a piece of jewelry he had been familiar with his whole life, his grandmother’s engagement ring. 

 

He plucked it out of the box and held it up so he could examine it more closely. It was a rare platinum ring from the ‘40s. Simple and elegant with a carat and a half diamond in the center, framed by open leaves on either side that were studded with smaller diamonds. 

 

His mother hadn’t even balked when he asked her for it. Rose had picked out her own ring, dropping not so subtle hints about the exact one she wanted. Emilia had never so much as mentioned specifics about ring other than a fleeting comment one day about wanting a ring she could wear everyday, that wasn’t gaudy or showy. His grandmother’s ring would be perfect. 

 

In the coming weeks he’d have to get it sized. He already knew what size ring she wore since he had given her the infinity ring before the _Last Christmas_ premier. It had fit her perfectly. His grandmother’s ring was larger, there was no doubt about that and it could probably do with a cleaning as well.

 

 He wasn’t in any rush to give it to her. It should be an occasion separate from BCH, of that he was sure. Baby or no baby, Kit knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Emilia. He wanted to marry her someday, whether it happened in a year, or three, or five. The ring symbolized his commitment to her, to their family, and to their life together. He wanted to be sure to have it on hand when the right moment came. 

 

* * *

 

**April 5- Olivier Awards, Royal Albert Hall**

 

“Did I really make it back before the end of commercial?” Emilia asked as she sat down in her seat next to Kit and rearranged her navy blue gown. “I almost didn’t make it.” 

  
“Record timing.” 

 

“It turns out, women will let you go first if you’re pregnant and look like you might wee yourself.” 

 

“Well aren’t you lucky?” Kit asked, lacing his fingers through hers. 

 

His usually warm hands were cool and clammy. _He’s nervous,_ she thought. She remembered the feeling well, plus she was nervous _for_ him. He deserved this. Sure, the other actors had worked hard, they were all incredibly talented performers, but this was Kit’s award. She had a feeling deep down inside that this belonged to him. If he didn’t win, she might have to pull a Kanye, waddle up on stage, or throw hands. Not that she actually would…

 

This was her very first time at the Oliviers, but she doubted it would be her last. She and Kit spent a minimum amount of time on the red carpet, something she knew he preferred and something she didn’t mind either. This was _his_ night and Emilia tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. She was his date for the evening, his plus one, and it felt nice to not have to answer many questions. During one commercial break she was approached by someone who had worked with her father and they had expressed what a wonderful man and sound designer he was. It was nearly enough to send her reaching for the tissues in her clutch and Kit offered her his handkerchief. 

 

Her father had truly opened up a world of acting to her. His job afforded her the opportunity to visit the theater from a very young age and he kept her dreams realistic at the same time. He took her to her first horrible audition as a child. She was rubbish then, she didn’t deserve the part. Her mum and dad were there through every single drama school rejection letter she received, but they were also there when she was called from off the waitlist and accepted to the Drama Centre London. Maybe one day she would be in another stage production. _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_  had left her anything but confident in her skills and ability as a stage actress. But maybe one day she would be able to return for the right script, the right part, the right director. One day. 

 

The presented yammered on and on about some unfunny joke that everyone politely laughed at before beginning to read through the list of names. Emilia felt his hand tighten in hers as he smiled politely, keenly aware that the cameras were on him. No one prepares you for the awkwardness of that moment when your name is read aloud and you face possible victory or crushing defeat. He heart swelled for the amount of applause Kit received, louder than the usual reception from the theatre folk. This was not the Emmys or Golden Globes. She squeezed his hand three times, a code of sorts. Three squeezes meant _I love you_ . His four squeeze response meant _I love you, too._  
  
“And the Olivier goes to...Kit Harington!” 

 

He sat stone still next to her. So still that if it hadn’t been for his castmates’ reactions around them, Emilia would have thought that she misheard the presenter. They ended up rising to their feet together as she pulled him into her arms. She pressed her lips close to his ear so he could hear her over the uproarious audience. 

 

“I’m so proud of you! So damn proud,” she said as tears stung her eyes. She pulled away enough to kiss him before he made his way to the stage. 

 

Kit took the statuette into his hand reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He looked out over the crowd and squinted. 

 

“Right. I can see there are numbers, but I haven’t got my glasses on so they’re pretty meaningless,” he said dryly as he unfolded the paper. She had no idea what he had written down or if he had prepared a speech at all. It seemed like it was bad luck to ask him. Actors were so superstitious to begin with and she didn’t want to jinx him in any way. 

 

“A year ago, I never expected to be standing up here on this stage or any stage for that matter. I’m here because of a lot of wonderful people who not only believed in me, but they believed in a shared vision that what we do as actors is important and admirable and it should be a lot of fun, too. The past few months of my life have been a sheer joy, in large part to working on this tremendous show with an exquisite cast. Thanks to all of my castmates and to our hard working crew. Thank you to the stagehands, costumers, and the ushers. Thanks to everyone who came to see us and told their friends and family to come as well. 

 

“My family has been a constant support for me. Without my mum, my dad, and my brother, I doubt I ever would’ve dreamed of becoming an actor.” 

 

He paused and covered his forehead with his hand, no doubt shielding his eyes from the glare of the lights as he scanned the crowd. She hadn’t been able to stop the steady stream of tears trickling down her cheeks as he gave his impassioned speech, but when his eyes found hers and he took a deep breath and sigh, everything around her began to melt away. She wasn’t seated in the grand Royal Albert Hall. He wasn’t standing on a stage while his most distinguished peers looked on and television lights illuminated him to a captive at-home audience. He was just Kit, standing across the kitchen island from her after coming in from another night at work while she fixed a snack for them, except tonight he wasn’t complaining about some idiot in the front row using their cellphone. 

 

He folded the piece of paper and shoved it back into his pocket. 

 

“I don’t need any notes for this last bit. None at all. Em, this is for you, my mighty and fierce companion in life and my biggest champion. Winning this with you at my side is even sweeter. I love you, my girl.” 

 

***

 

“Why don’t we get outta here?” Kit asked as he took a sip of his lime and seltzer. 

 

“Already?” Emilia replied. 

 

 _Oh thank fuck_ , she thought. She had been ready to go home forty-five minutes ago, but she would have never dreamed of saying so. Her feet were killing her, but that was just the beginning. It would be easier for her to make a list of body parts that didn’t hurt at this point. The shoes she was wearing were a far cry from the six inch stilettos she had rocked at the Emmys the previous year. She wondered if she would ever wear shoes like that again. 

 

“Yeah, I think I’ve paid my dues for the night. And no one would blame us for wanting to get out of here early.” 

 

Emilia checked the time on her phone and groaned. It wasn’t even midnight yet. 

 

“Do you remember the days when we would stay out so late after an award show that we would watch the sunrise?” she asked once they were securely tucked into the backseat of the car and on their way home. 

 

“I remember,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I remember missing the sunrise the morning after the twenty-eighteen Emmys though…” 

 

“And why was that?” 

 

“Probably because we overslept.” 

 

“I give Lola a lot of credit for having the grace to look surprised that you were at the house that morning.” 

 

“She knew I was there the minute we got home,” Kit laughed. 

 

“Without a doubt.” 

 

“I much prefer not having to sneak into your house after award shows.” 

 

“I could lock you out or something if you miss it at all.” 

 

“Don’t you think you’ve played enough tricks on me this week?” 

 

“Well _you_ started it,” Emilia said, poking his thigh. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” 

 

“How was I supposed to know that you would be _that_ good at an April Fool’s Day prank?” 

 

“You should just _know_.” 

 

“Ahhh, I see.” 

 

“Kit?” 

 

“Hmmm?” 

 

“I’m really proud of you.” 

 

“That’s, like, the sixth time you’ve told me.” 

 

“It doesn’t make it any less true.” 

 

“Thanks,” he replied, kissing her. “Where do you think I should put this thing?” 

 

“You’re not putting it in the downstairs loo?” 

 

“I’m not sure. Do you think Olivier will get along with Emmy, GiGi, and Saggy?” 

 

“I’m sure he’ll fit right in with that lot.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. Baby of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilia is overdue. A series of flashbacks. Baby Clarke-Harington comes into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took me a LONG time to finish this chapter but here it is! I had to write and then rewrite my outlines and parts of this chapter, but I was determined not to give up on it. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me along the way. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This fic never would have happened without my two besties in the NDC. You know who you are. You let me rant and rave about this fic and about this chapter in particular. Thank you for being two of my biggest cheerleaders. I owe SO much to you. 
> 
> Thanks to my friend Ellie who made the moodboards that have been featured in this fic! 
> 
> Be sure to check out the epilogue in the next "chapter"! 
> 
> Finally, thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this story and for sticking with me while I saw it through to its completion.

 

_17 April 2020_

 

Emilia sighed as she straightened up and closed the oven. She set the tray of baked cookies onto the cooling rack with the others and checked the time. 5:45 pm. _Good,_ she thought. _Just enough time to wash up and head to the theatre._ She was six days overdue and going absolutely stir crazy, her anxiety reaching new heights if she allowed it to. A few days more and the doctor wanted to induce, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

 

“I really thought today might be the day,” Emilia said as she smoothed her hand over her belly. “But I guess not. Not that I blame you or anything.” 

 

As she began to box up the cookies that had already cooled, she continued to talk to herself. 

 

“But your Daddy and I _really_ can’t wait to meet you. I think he’s beginning to take it personally.” 

 

A well-timed kick, thrummed against Emilia’s hand. . 

 

“You sort of popped up at just the right time, I think. I mean, at the time it was all really scary, but it’s not like we didn’t know it _could_ happen. We just didn’t expect it to happen so...soon. Spring was kind of a clusterfuck. Whoops. Don’t tell Daddy I said that. I promised him I would try not to swear so much around you. Anyway, Spring was crazy. It seemed like everything was going wrong and bad and then finding out we were going to have you was just a wonderful shift away from that.” 

 

***

 

_“How did you get cookie dough here?” Kit asked as he pulled a piece from her hair. He tossed it into the sink and leaned against the counter as she continued to wipe it down._

 

_“Well someone lifted the beaters up while they were still running…”_

 

_“Who me?”_

 

_Emilia shook her head as he swiped his finger back into the mixing bowl and scraped more dough off the side. They had spent the evening making a batch of cookies, something that seemed distinctly American and wrong, but these were not the typical English biscuit. When Kit told her the other day that he had never made chocolate chip cookies, she knew she had to remedy that. She had gathered all of the ingredients and surprised him with it when he came over that night. He had brought the food, it was only right that she provide the dessert, even if it took a little assembling._

 

_Kit’s visits were a more frequent occurrence now that he was home. Once they had ventured to the movies, buying their tickets ahead of time, arriving separately, and sitting in the back. In the darkness, his hand had found hers and he wove their fingers together, not letting go until the credits began to roll. Although they wanted to spend time together, they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves by going out to dinner or to a show so they usually opted to stay in. Since word had quickly spread that he and Rose had filed for divorce at the end of June they had grown even more cautious. He was adamant that no one needed to know about Emilia’s involvement in any of it._

 

_Last week, they had finalized plans for their trip to Greece. They would leave the last week of July and return the last week of August. A lovely month away where they could stroll through the streets of Crete, lounge around the beach, or stay in bed all day if they really wanted to. No one knew they were going, save for their families and a few close friends who might get worried if they went a month without communicating with them._

 

_“Good thing we’re making these tonight and not next week,” Kit observed as he peeked into the oven._

 

_“Why’s that?” Emilia asked._

 

_“It’s supposed to be a bloody heatwave.”_

 

_“Thank God for air con, but I’d rather sleep with the windows open.”_

 

_“You’d sleep outside in your garden under the stars every night if you could.”_

 

_“Why can’t I?”_

 

_“You’d get noise complaints from your neighbors…”_

 

_“Shut up!” she screeched, flicking the kitchen towel at him. On the second attempt he grabbed hold of the towel and pulled her closer to him until he could wrap his free arm around her._

 

_“I didn’t say I minded though…”_

 

_“You shouldn’t. You’re the cause of so much of it anyway.”_

 

_Emilia gripped the front of his shirt in her hand tugging lightly to bring his face down to hers. She ghosted her lips over his, teasing him with the promise of a kiss._

 

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

 

_“I should get that,” Emilia whispered._

 

_“Do you have to?” Kit asked, keeping his hold on her._

 

_“Unless you want burnt cookies,” she replied, reaching up to peck his lips and release herself from his arms._

 

_She pulled the trays out of the oven and placed the cookies on the rack to cool. When Kit reached for one she tried to swat his hand away, but was too slow. He snatched up a too hot cookie and took a bite out of it before she could stop him._

 

_“Fuck, that’s hot!” he said as he chewed and tried to fan his mouth at the same time._

 

_“Well what did you expect? They just came out of the oven. You’re an impatient child.”_

 

_“Am not,” he pouted. He opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of oat milk, taking a swig before returning it to its place on the shelf._

 

_Emilia raised an eyebrow._

 

_“What?”_

 

_“Nothing,” she smirked. “By all means, make yourself at home. Don’t bother to use a glass.”_

 

_“I just needed a swallow of something cold to drink.”_

 

_“If you do that again, you’re not going to be allowed to come back.”_

 

_“You gave me a key... “_

 

_“I’ll change the locks.”_

 

_“That’s a lot of effort just because I drank milk out of the carton.”_

 

_“I hear boys have cooties.”_

 

_“Do you now?” he asked, closing the distance between them._

 

_“Mmhmm,” she replied as he pulled her flush against him._

 

_“I should really finish cleaning up this mess.”_

 

_“I promise it’s not going anywhere.”_

 

_“You sure about that? I’ve seen enough Disney movies to question that.”_

 

_“I promise.”_

 

_“Oh well, a promise,” Emilia whispered close to his ear. “In that case…”_

 

_“I’ll even help with them later.”_

 

_“My, my Kit. You really know the way to a girl’s heart and how to get into her knickers.”_

 

_“Is it working?” he asked, his thumbs massaging small circles along her hip bones._

 

_“No,” she replied and swore his face visibly fell. “Though I suppose it’s hard to get into my knickers if I’m not wearing any.”_

 

_Kit’s eyes darkened as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her yoga pants to find that she had not been lying. He gave her arse a squeeze as she wound her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. SHe pulled him down and kissed him deeply, waiting no time in tracing her tongue across his bottom lip. He opened his mouth to her and she couldn’t help but smile._

 

_We definitely don’t use tongues, she had said once to save face._

 

_How many times had he kissed her so deeply during a scene that she completely lost herself in the moment? How many times had he brought her back to reality when he pretended to gag?_

 

_“I have to cover our bases if you’re going to moan into my mouth like that,” he had told her once._

 

_Emilia turned in his arms and held her hand out to him. When he placed his larger hand into her smaller one, she led him up the stairs to her bedroom. She closed the door behind them and wrapped her arms around him once again. He had been back for over a month, but now she truly felt like he was hers and she was his in return. They had made rules and had stuck to those rules. It was an eye-opening revelation for both of them. Despite abstaining from sex until he had filed for divorce, she had never felt closer to him than when they were lying on her bed, fully clothed, face to face. It was a level of intimacy that she had never reached with anyone else. It was a level of intimacy that honestly scared her shitless at times._

 

_She reached for his shirt and untucked it, drawing it over his head and tossing it onto the floor. Piece by piece the rest of their clothing followed. A squeal of delight escaped her when he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She laughed as he unceremoniously plopped her down onto the duvet and crawled over her, settling between her thighs._

 

_He made love to her slowly, with measured strokes and lavished her body with attention. There was no sense of urgency as they rose and fell together, taking turns setting the pace. He didn’t need to be gone first thing in the morning. She needn’t slip from his side in the middle of the night. For the first time they were committed body, heart, soul, and mind to one another. She didn’t know exactly what the future looked like, but she knew he was a part of it and that made the prospect more thrilling than terrifying._

 

_Afterwards, she held him close for a long while, her ankles still locked together on the small of his back, his comfortable weight pressed against her as he kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose and her lips again. She lost track of where he stopped and she began. A contented sigh passed her lips when he slipped from her and eased onto his back, gently pulling her with him so that she could tuck into his side. Even then, they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle._

 

_“Emilia…”_

 

_“I know,” she said quietly. When she built up the courage, she lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him._

 

_His brown eyes bore a hint of concern about what just happened. One of the many days they had shared together lately had been spent discussing their future. Where they hoped to go, who they hoped to be...for themselves and for one another. It wasn’t as if they were completely throwing caution to the wind all the time, but they both knew what their idea of a family looked like. Both ideals seemed to overlap so much so that it seemed like they could let fate continue to guide their journey together, whatever and whoever that entailed._

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“Okay,” he replied with a hint of a smile, his fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear._

 

_“Okay.” She buried her face against his chest again and pulled his arms even tighter around her small frame._

 

* * *

_Thirty-five minutes ‘til curtain,_ Kit thought as he glanced at the watch Emilia had given him on opening night. He checked his phone once more for a text message from her before placing it face down on the vanity of his dressing room. No news was good news in his book. Every day that BCH was late, was a day that he considered staying home from the play. His understudy would be filling in for him for a week once the baby was born, why not start a little early?

 

Because Emilia wouldn’t hear of it. She was insistent that he wouldn’t just stay home staring at her until she went into labour.  It was just so hard to wait and he felt uncomfortable leaving her at home by herself. She had tried telling him that she wouldn’t be alone, Roxy would be home with her. That did little to ease his mind. Mercifully, she had arranged for some of her friends to pop around at some point during the night each day that week. Lola, Imogen, David, and even her brother had all checked in at some point. Tonight, she assured him, her mum was bringing her dinner and they were going to tuck in and watch _You’ve Got Mail_. 

 

Honestly, ever since her April Fool’s Day prank on him, he couldn’t help but worry. Every time he picked up his phone during intermission he expected to find frantic texts or phone calls from her. When he would return home at night he would anxiously open the door only to find her perfectly fine. 

 

He was in the middle of a conversation with one of his costars just outside of his dressing room when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. 

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” Emilia said. 

 

***

 

_“It’s like getting the band back together, eh?” Richard said as he took a sip of his whiskey neat at the bar of the Fitzwilliam Hotel._

 

_“Yeah,” Kit replied. “Let’s hope everything goes better this time around, or it’s been nice knowing you, Rich.”_

 

_“It’ll work out. At least for a season or two. Have you met any of the new ones yet?”_

 

_“No. You?”_

 

_“Yeah. Michelle who plays my mum and the new Daenerys. Emilia’s her name.”_

 

_“What’s she like?”_

 

_“Let’s just say I certainly wouldn’t mind if our characters crossed paths.”_

 

_“Really?”_

 

_“Mmmhmm, but judging by the script that would happen this season.”_

 

_“Judging by the books it won’t happen at all for you, mate.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“What? ...Have you not read them?”_

 

_“Only the first one.”_

 

_“Oh,” Kit said, attempting to find the right words to break Robb’s fate to Richard. “Well…”_

 

_“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” a voice from behind him said._

 

_He turned around and felt himself exhale at the sight in front of him. The petite young woman standing before him literally took his breath away and left him at a loss for words. Effortlessly beautiful, but not overdone, she flashed Richard a megawatt smile before shifting her blue lagoon-esque eyes back over to Kit. His jaw was on the floor, he was sure of it, when Rich cleared his throat._

 

_“Emilia, we were just talking about you.”_

 

_“Only good things, I hope.”_

 

_“Yes!” Kit sputtered._

 

_“Emilia Clarke, Kit Harington,” Richard said as he gestured to Kit. “Kit, this is Emilia.”_

 

_“Pleasure to meet you,” Kit intoned and offered his hand. It felt as if a jolt of electricity passed through his body when she accepted it and gave it a firm shake._

 

_“The pleasure is all mine.”_

 

_“What can we get you to drink, Emilia?”_

 

_“Gin and tonic sounds good right now.”_

 

_For the next hour or so, the three of them sat together at a booth they had moved into that was situated close to the bar and got to know one another better. Kit was perfectly content to mostly be an observer, letting Richard and Emilia steer the conversation. He found himself lost in the melodic tones of her voice and totally engrossed in the way she told a story. Like himself, she was pretty fresh out of Drama School and had been completely surprised when she landed the newly recast role of Daenerys. She was nothing like Tamzin and he found himself trying to picture what she might look like with the long silver-blonde wig on._

 

_“I feel a bit like a fish out of water,” she admitted. “You’ve all had the chance to get to know each other and work together.”_

 

_“You’ll fit right in,” Kit assured her. He felt like it would be impossible for someone not to like her. “You get to go on location this season, right?”_

 

_“Yeah,” she nodded. “In Malta. But that’s not until October.”_

 

_“See?” Richard smiled as he flagged down a waitress. “Plenty of time to get to know everyone.”_

 

_*_

 

_“Shit, is my wig messed up?” Emilia asked as she lifted her head from Kit’s shoulder._

 

_“No,” he replied with a lopsided grin as he looked up at her._

 

_He was going to miss this when she left for Malta in two weeks. The quick fucks in her trailer were risky and illicit and definitely not something he would’ve expected from Emilia when they’d first met over the summer. The nights they spent together in their hotel rooms were slightly less risky, but almost more dangerous. One night- or had it been early morning?- he was sure Maisie’s mum had seen him slipping out of Emilia’s room. He most definitely hadn’t expected to fall so hard or so deeply for her, but there weren’t that many of them who were the same age. The attraction he felt for her the minute her set eyes on her quickly turned into seeking out her company when they had spare moments to themselves. They liked some of the same music, introduced one another to films they enjoyed and he genuinely liked being around her. The amazing sex was an added bonus._

 

_“_ _Your_ _hair is slightly...tousled we’ll say,” Emilia practically giggled as she climbed off his lap and tied the belt of her robe around her waist, covering part of her costume that she was already wearing._

 

_“I’m sure it’s an improvement,” he replied, readjusting himself and buttoning his fly._

 

_“What time are you done tonight?”_

 

_“Late-ish. Should I come ‘round when I’m done?”_

 

_“You’ve got a key to my room. You know I’d like to hang out.”_

 

_“I’ll text you before I come by. I wouldn’t want to catch you by surprise.”_

 

_“Oh no. We couldn’t have that.”_

 

***

 

“What are you doing here?” Kit asked, completely taken by surprise to see Emilia at the theatre. 

 

“I’ve felt so claustrophobic in the house all week. I needed to get out so I brought some cookies!” 

 

“How’d you get here?” 

 

“I walked.” 

 

Kit’s eyes went wide for a moment until she put her hand on his arm.

 

“I’m joking. Please tell me you know I’m joking. I took a cab. Same as always.” 

 

“Right,” he breathed with an unconvincing smile and shrug. “Of course I knew you were joking.” 

 

Kit followed her back into his dressing room where she deposited her coat and parcel of cookies. He was happy any time she came to visit him before the show. It reminded him of the previous year and all the times she came to see him during _True West’s_ run. Something had always been brewing between the two of them, but it was then that they reconnected on a different level, when they realized that their connection wasn’t just because of _Thrones_ but because of the very real feelings they had for one another. 

 

She had spent so much time in LA during the fall and he couldn’t help but think the imposed distance had been purposeful, especially after the Emmys. Emilia knew as well as he did that the closer they were in proximity to each other, the harder it would be to resist any kind of connection. It had always been that way. It was like that in Belfast. It was like that in Spain. It was like that in Iceland. 

 

***

 

_“I don’t think I’ll ever get warm again,” Emilia whined, though her chattering teeth made Kit believe she was truly chilled to the bone._

 

_They were sitting in their hair and makeup chairs while her wig and his makeup were carefully removed._

 

_“It’s not all that bad,” Kit shrugged smugly, trying to hide just how cold he was as well._

 

_“You’re forgetting that I’m mostly used to the heat. Even Belfast isn’t this bad. And only seven hours of bloody sunlight? How’d you lot get anything done?”_

 

_“Now you know what I’ve been dealing with. It’s not so easy to act in frigid temperatures, is it?”_

 

_“I guess not.”_

 

_*_

 

_An hour or so later when they were finally back in their hotel, Kit had a bottle of red wine sent up to his room. After it arrived with two glasses he tucked the bottle under his arm and slipped out of his room. He rapped lightly on the door across the hall, looking both ways down the corridor until he heard the chain slide and the latch open._

 

_“Hi,” she said, opening the door to allow him into her room._

 

_“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”_

 

_“Not at all. I was just sitting under a few blankets. My thighs still feel frozen. What’ve you got there?”_

 

_“Oh this? Just a little something I thought might help warm you up.”_

 

_“You brought wine glasses and everything,” she remarked, taking the glassware from him._

 

_“I came prepared.”_

 

_“I suppose these suites have a corkscrew somewhere, hmmm?”_

 

_“No need. I asked the bartender to open it for us.”_

 

_“Excellent.”_

 

_Kit pulled out the cork and poured a bit of the full-bodied Barolo into a glass. He swirled it around and inhaled the aroma before taking a sip. Deeming it to be most acceptable, he poured some into Emilia’s glass and handed it to her and then filled his cup._

 

_“A toast,” he said, raising his glass._

 

_“What should we toast to?” she asked._

 

_“Here’s to your first day filming in Iceland.”_

 

_“To Iceland,” Emilia echoed, clinking her glass against his._

 

_They both took a sip before he continued._

 

_“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to show you Iceland.”_

 

_He knew she would love it there, despite the frigid temperature and short days. Iceland had bewitched him in a way and it had pulled him far away from her. Kit never knew if he would see the day when they would be filming there together. Belfast could be chaotic in terms of filming- Spain, too- for various reasons. Here and now in Iceland with this small skeleton crew he had really gotten the chance to show her more than just photographs. Dan and Dave, and HBO to an extent, had turned his frozen respite into the backdrop for some grand romance narrative. It made him wince. From the moment he set boots onto the locations they had chosen for season two, there was only one person he wanted to share this with, one person who would see beauty where others saw solitary cold and desolation._

 

_They’d Skyped or FaceTimed as promised during those days apart during filming. She would send him long emails detailing her days on set. She was struggling, she wrote candidly, feeling not at all like herself and grappling with the very real fear that she could die. What could he say to that? All of his words of assurance and reassurance felt hollow as he wrote them. He hoped the care in his voice and concern etched across his face carried over the video chats._

 

_Kit had wondered why there had even been a need to film in Iceland for the final season. What they were filming surely could’ve been captured on a sound stage. Still, he wouldn’t complain about the chance to get away for a few days._

 

_‘Get away from what?’ he thought. ‘Or who?’_

 

_January had gotten off to a bad start in New York. After his dust up in the bar- all over a misunderstanding- getting to LA for the Golden Globes had been daunting. Being there with Emilia had been a saving grace. She had showed up at his hotel room two hours before the Sean Penn charity event and talked him down a fair amount. The event, and the Globes the following day, had earned them a fair amount of attention, or so Marianna had said._

 

_“Are you just going to stand there, or would you like to sit down?” Emilia asked._

 

_“I’ll sit,” he replied and followed her further into her hotel room to the sitting area._

 

_To his surprise, Emilia did not take the chair opposite his seat on the sofa, but sat next to him, tucking her feet under her. She looked tired, but no less beautiful, as she stretched her neck back and forth and caught his gaze. Kit looked away, as embarrassed as a school boy._

 

_“Where are you?” she asked._

 

_“What? I’m right here.”_

 

_“Are you though?”_

 

_“Trying to be.”_

 

_“You’ve got a lot on your mind.”_

 

_“You don’t?”_

 

_“Touché.”_

 

_Another stretch of silence passed between them as they sipped their wine. They stole glances at one another like a pair of kids._

 

_“What are we doing?” Emilia asked at length._

 

_“What do you mean?” Kit asked._

 

_“Don’t be coy.”_

 

_“I thought we were sharing a bottle of wine…”_

 

_“That’s it?”_

 

_“Do you want that to be it?”_

 

_‘He would ask that,’ Emilia thought._

 

_Why did she have to be the one to choose? Sometimes she wished Kit would just make up her mind for her, but then again he could barely seem to make up his own mind._

 

_“Tell me to take my bottle of wine and go, and I’ll go, Emilia.”_

 

_“I know you would. That’s the bloody problem.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“Nothing. Of course I don’t want you to go.”_

 

_“But do you want me to stay?”_

 

_It hadn’t occurred to either of them that those were two very different questions._

 

_***_

 

“Are you staying to watch or were you just dropping off goodies?” 

 

“I think I’ll stay. At least for a bit. I want to see my Olivier Award Winner at work.” 

 

“I’ll get them to put a chair in the wings for you.” 

 

“Actually, I think I’d rather just stand,” Emilia said, stretching from side to side. “Today it’s just been more comfortable to stand. When I sit, my back has been tensing up for awhile and I can’t stay comfortable for long.” 

 

“Okay. Sounds good. If you change your mind you know who to ask to get one for you.” 

 

“Will do.” 

 

“I’ve gotta go. It’s almost curtain.” 

 

“I know, break a leg.” 

 

“Thanks,” Kit said, stealing a kiss and snagging a cookie before he went to join his castmates for their pre-show routine. 

 

Soon enough, she was watching him from the wings, enjoying herself but also slightly regretting her decision not to stay at home and send the cookies over with her assistant. Standing on the hard floor for so long did nothing to help her back. Reluctantly, Emilia walked back to the dressing room in hopes that movement would ease the pain long enough to get her through the rest of the show. 

 

She leaned forward against the counter and stretched when a particularly strong spasm struck her, holding her in a vice-like grip until it mercifully subsided. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the mirror and surveyed herself as a realization of what was happening dawned on her. 

 

“Holy fuck,” she swore and let out a shakey breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not here.” 

 

Emilia didn’t know what she had expected. Perhaps, in her perfect scenario, she would go into labour at home. How many movies, books, or television programmes had she seen where a woman woke up in the middle of the night to contractions? Had the irregular back pain she had tried to brush off for the better part of the day actually been the early stages of labour? 

 

A check of her watch let her know she had forty-five minutes to wait until the show was over. _Less than an hour,_ she thought. _That’s not bad. You can do that._ A torrent of thoughts came at her at such a rapid pace she could barely think. 

 

_Time your next contraction._

 

_Should I ring Mum now or once we get to hospital?_

 

_Should we stop at home for the bag or send someone else?_

 

The contractions, she reasoned, were between three and four minutes apart and over the next twenty or so odd minutes they seemed to be getting stronger. If they could just hold on for another half hour the show would be over and everything would be fine. 

 

“I should’ve stayed home,” she muttered as a contraction eased. “I should’ve just-.” 

 

No book or website could’ve accurately prepared Emilia for the entirely bizarre sensation of her water breaking. If she hadn’t been so stunned about it happening in such a public place, she would’ve laughed in spite of herself. Had she not been _in labour_ , she would’ve assumed she weed a little. It certainly wasn’t what she thought it would be, she hadn’t even messed on the floor like she had played out on April Fool’s Day. 

 

“Well this certainly isn’t ideal,” Emilia said out loud and reached for her phone. “You’re absolutely your father’s child. Breaking my water _in_ the theatre. A shoe-in for an Olivier.” 

 

There wouldn’t be time now to run to the house before going to hospital. In fact, the silver lining was that the Portland Street Hospital was closer to the theatre than it was to her house. The decision of where to give birth wasn’t an easy one. Her past medical history elevated her risk level enough to rule out a home birth. While her local hospital was great, it was a desire for more privacy that drove them to look at the Portland Street Hospital. If it was good enough for the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, it would suit BCH just fine. 

 

With deft fingers, she fired off a text to her mum. 

 

_Emilia: Don’t freak out._

 

_E: In labour. Can you go to the house and get my hospital bag. It’s literally by the door leading out to the garden._

 

_Mum: What?! Where are you?_

 

_E: At theatre. Please save the I told you so for tomorrow._

 

_M: I’m on my way._

 

* * *

“There you are,” Kit said as he popped around the corner and found Emilia alone in his dressing room. From the moment he saw her, he could tell something was...off. Not _wrong_ per se, but when she wasn’t waiting for him in the wings, his nervous curiosity went into overdrive. 

 

“Don’t freak out,” she began, straightening herself up but still bracing herself on his vanity counter. 

 

“Oh my God,” Kit gasped, already guessing what she was about to tell him. “We need to go home! Like, now!” 

 

“We do need to go, but not home. My water kinda broke.” 

 

“Kinda?!” 

 

“It did. Get out of your costume.” 

 

Kit called for the stage door security to hail a cab before quickly changing back into his clothes. He would deal with his stage makeup once they reached the hospital. 

 

“Can you hurry?” 

 

“I’m going as fast as I can.” 

 

***

 

_E: Can you hurry?_

 

_K: I’m going as fast as I can._

 

_E: I’m literally lying in bed, completely naked. So use your key._

 

_She smirked as she hit ‘send’ and set her phone on the nightstand. Of course, he had to wrap for the day after her. It wasn’t easy being patient in waiting for him. She’d left him with the promise of a quiet night in with some room service and a bottle of wine and she intended to make good on that promise, perhaps minus the quiet bit. Being in Spain with him for the last month or so had been nothing short of exhilarating._

 

_The first time they’d filmed scenes together in Belfast they had both been giddy, but Spain felt almost magical. It was hardly a surprise when they began spending most of their free time together. She was slowly, but surely, starting to feel like herself again and part of her was okay with being selfish for however long it lasted._

 

_“Have you ever tried to climb stairs with a hard-on?” Kit called after he let himself into the room and let the door close behind him. “I don’t recommend it.”_

 

_Her pulse beat faster with each step he took from her suite’s sitting room to the bedroom and when he finally stood at the foot of her bed he was already tearing off layers of clothing._

 

_“My enticement worked, I see,” she said with a hum of satisfaction._

 

_“Oh it did,” he agreed. He reached for the duvet and slowly started to pull, revealing her body to him inch by inch. “Sorry for making you wait.”_

 

_“Good things come to those who wait.”_

 

_“That’s not the only thing that’s going to come.”_

 

_Emilia rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, but extended her hand to him just the same. Kit’s eyes darkened ever so slightly as he crawled onto the bed and hovered over her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her toes up his calf, locking her ankles over the small of his back. They fit together so perfectly as they moved in unison, falling into the familiar patterns of their lovemaking. Tonight, she let him take the lead, content to be lavished in his expert attention. He knew every inch of her body. How she liked to be touched. How to make her toes curl. How to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat. And how to make her feel like they were the only two people in existence- certainly the only two who mattered- as she completely came undone._

 

_“You never sent me the pictures you took the other day,” she said as she traced patterns across his chest._

 

_“Which ones?” he replied, earning a playful slap._

 

_“You know which ones. The one of me in just my dress looking out over the water.”_

 

_“Why do you want it? So you can post it to your Instant thing?”_

 

_“_ _Instagram,_ _you geriatric.”_

 

_“People could talk.”_

 

_“They won’t know who took it.”_

 

_“Alright, I’ll send it to you.”_

 

_“Thanks!”_

 

_“Anything for you, love.”_

 

_***_

 

“Thanks,” Emilia said, taking the cup of ice chips from Kit. 

 

“Anything for you, love.” 

 

They had settled her into the birthing suite on the labour and delivery wing of the hospital and was it ever a _suite_. Emilia had spent more time in hospital than she cared to, both for herself and for her father and she was absolutely dreading another stay. However, the rooms at the Portland Street Hospital were indeed almost closer to a hotel than a hospital. It wasn’t the main reason they chose it, but it was certainly a perk. 

 

She took a few ice chips into her mouth and let them slowly melt before handing the cup back to Kit and resting her head against the bed. She was tired of being poked and prodded and monitored, despite knowing how necessary it was. It was difficult not to remain tensed up while her body waited for another contraction, but she tried to focus on her breathing instead. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she had been foolish to refuse pain meds, opting for the natural route instead. 

 

“Talk to me,” she requested. “Tell me I haven’t been stupid to forgo the epidural.” 

 

“Stupid not to have a large needle shoved into your back?” Kit said. “Hell, just the thought of it makes me want to pass out.” 

 

He hated needles and had to look away when they started her IV. Had they even brought the epidural needle into the room she had no doubt that he would have needed medical attention himself. She smiled at that. 

 

“They could wheel a bed in for me right next to yours for when I came to.” 

 

“Stop making me laugh.” 

 

***

 

_“Stop making me laugh,” Emilia grinned with a moan. “Even that hurts.”_

 

_“I’m sorry,” Kit grimaced. “I’m not even trying.”_

 

_It was so good to see him, so good to hear his voice that she didn’t even care how frightful she must’ve looked. Her mum had hastily woven her unwashed hair into a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. Still, she felt weak, sick, and vulnerable. Gross, for lack of a better term, but so very glad just at the sight of him._

 

_“You gave me quite a scare,” he said, brushing his thumb over her knuckles._

 

_“So people tell me. Can I let you in on a secret?”_

 

_He nodded._

 

_“I’m scaring myself shitless, too. I just feel so tired, but every time I close my eyes, I re-imagine all of that happening- what I can remember of it anyway. So I try to look ahead, but then I just think about the press tour for the show and season two. I don’t even know how to explain any of this to Dan and Dave. I don’t know how I can do any of this. What if they don’t think I can do the part anymore? What if-.”_

 

_“They can’t do that. Fuck them. You don’t have to tell them anything.”_

 

_“I’m pretty sure I should.”_

 

_“As for the press stuff, just take it one day at a time. You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to. And if you need someone to talk to, you know you can tell me anything.”_

 

_“Except when you’re off shooting in...where are they sending you again?”_

 

_“Iceland,” Kit offered. “But not until the fall and there is such a thing as Skype and FaceTime.”_

 

_“You’ll freeze your arse off while I’m in Dubrovnik.”_

 

_“Maybe someday they’ll let us film together.”_

 

_“You’ve read the books. Dany and Jon haven’t even met yet.”_

 

_“There’s still time.”_

 

_“Yeah, still time for us,” she nodded._

 

_The door to her hospital room opened._

 

_“Just me,” Emilia’s mum said as she came back into the room, breaking the moment between them._

 

_***_  

 

“Just me,” Jenny said as she knocked on the door, arriving with Emilia’s hospital bag in hand. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I let Roxy out and made sure she had food. Your brother said he’d look in on her tomorrow.” 

 

“Thanks, Mum. I’m glad you’re here.” 

 

“How far along?” 

 

“Eight,” Kit and Emilia answered in unison. 

 

“Already?” 

 

“She came in at six.” 

 

“Snitch.” 

 

“Emilia…” 

 

“Mum, if you even think about lecturing me whilst I’m in labour, I swear to-.” 

 

She hissed as another contraction hit and she grabbed Kit’s hand and held it tightly in her grasp. 

 

“Just breathe,” he coached, his lips pressed against her ear. 

 

***

 

_“Just breathe,” Kit whispered as he held her hand in his own._

 

_“I’m trying,” Emilia replied, but the panic attack left her gasping for air._

 

_It felt as if someone was standing on her chest. The attack had come from the middle of nowhere at an inopportune time, just before they were set to film their scene. They were on what would be a lookout at Dragonstone. Daenerys was about to allow Jon to mine the dragonglass. Suddenly, the migraine she had been dealing with for the better part of the day spiked. Familiar thoughts of panic and certain death set upon her and she felt completely paralyzed._

 

_The crippling migraines and panic attacks weren’t a thing of the past, but they were certainly less frequent than they were while she was filming the second season. ‘The nightmare season,’ she thought. Each day, she felt sure that she would suffer an aneurysm on set and drop dead, or worse, that news of her condition would somehow get out._

 

_“I just need to get through this scene,” she inhaled._

 

_“Want me to help? Should I give you a shove or a firm push?”_

 

_***_

 

“Push!” the midwife encouraged her. “The head is out, just one more firm push and you’ll get to meet your baby.” 

 

“One more and BCH is here,” Kit said as the bones in his hand were compressed together. Who would’ve thought that hands as small as Emilia’s could inflict such pain? 

 

_Can’t you just pull it out?_ Emilia wanted to scream, but she doubted she even had the strength for that. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt before and no amount of meditative breathing could help her. It took every last ounce of energy she could muster to gather up what strength she had left to begin pushing again. The promise of relief that was hopefully not far off was almost as bolstering as the promise of holding her baby for the first time. She might’ve yelled, but she couldn’t be sure, as she bore down and pushed for the final time. 

 

“She’s here,” the doctor exclaimed, quite literally catching the baby and holding her up for her parents to see. “Congratulations mum and dad. It’s a girl!” 

 

Emilia opened her eyes and gazed at her daughter for the very first time. She was red and messy and squalling as loud as her little baby lungs could cry, making her grand entrance known to the world. The nurse handed a rather pale looking Kit a pair of scissors so he could cut the umbilical cord. His face was a mixture of shock and awe that she was sure mirrored her own. They hastily wiped the baby off, wrapped her lightly in a blanket, and finally placed her into Emilia’s waiting arms. 

 

“Hi baby girl,” she said, cradling her daughter against her chest. Tears that had welled up in her eyes spilled over her cheers. Tears of relief, of residual pain, of pure and utter joy. “We’re so glad you’re finally here.” 

 

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Kit added, wiping at his own eyes with the palm of his hand. 

 

Somewhere in the room, her mum was showering all of them with praise and adulation, acting every bit the new Nana she was. Emilia could hardly even notice the nurses dealing with everything that came with the post-birth clean up. It was nearly impossible to tear her eyes away from her daughter, but she did so momentarily to look at Kit. 

 

“What do you think, Daddy?” 

 

“I think I’m speechless. You’re bloody amazing. I don’t know how you did that. And I think she’s the most perfect tiny little thing I’ve ever seen.” 

 

* * *

 

“She has your lips,” Kit whispered later. 

 

It was just the three of them now. Emilia’s mum had been convinced to go home for the night, not all the way to Oxford, but to Islington instead. 

 

“She does, doesn’t she?” Emilia mused, tracing her pinky finger lightly over the baby’s lips. “I think her hair will favor you, though. It’s already darker than mine.” 

 

“I can’t stop looking at her, Em.” 

 

“Me neither. Like, I’m so incredibly exhausted, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.” 

 

“Do you think it’s time we give her a name?” 

 

“I was so worried that when she was born the name we picked wouldn’t fit.” 

 

“I think it does.” 

 

“What do _you_ think, little lady?” Emilia cooed. “Philippa Euphemia Jane Clarke- Harington.” 

 

“We’ll just call you Pippa,” Kit assured his daughter, cupping her small head in his hand. “It suits her.”

 

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! :)


	10. Epilogue- Here, There, and Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've loved writing this fic and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. <3 Katie

Kit gazed westward as the summer sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, purple, and pink. Life in the country was so much slower than it was in London and he was glad to be spending the better part of July and August at the cottage in Oxfordshire. There were days when he or Emilia had business to attend to in the city, but they only stayed as long as they needed to. Heaven knew he would rather spend all of his time with Emilia and Pippa. 

  


His three-month-old had just finished nursing and dozed peacefully in her mother’s arms. When Emilia noticed Kit was watching her, she offered him a smile and rested her head against the patio chair. Most nights were spent together in their garden, reading, listening to music, or just talking. 

  


It wasn’t until after they brought Pippa home from the hospital that they realized Emilia had gone into labour on the ninth anniversary of the premier of  _ Thrones _ . She admitted to Kit at being relieved their daughter had been born on the eighteenth of April, as opposed to the seventeenth. Some things, she reasoned, should be kept separate. 

  


Pippa was a tiny thing, unsurprising given her parents’ stature, coming into the world at just forty-nine centimeters long and weighing almost exactly three kilograms. She did indeed have Kit’s dark hair and the longer it grew, the more promise it showed to curl like his. In every other way, she was all Emilia right now to her dazzling blue eyes. Kit didn’t think it was possible to love anyone more. It made the middle of the night feedings and diaper changes easier to deal with, to be sure. 

  


Now, more than ever, Kit knew that this was the life he wanted. This was everything that actually mattered. A family. A home. Sharing all of that with Emilia was all he could’ve asked for. 

  


“Someone’s ready to be put down for the night,’ Emilia said, carefully standing from her chair. 

  


“Need help?” he asked, as he always did. 

  


“No, I think I got it. Give her a kiss?” 

  


Emilia held their daughter so he could place a kiss on her little head and smoothed his hand over her tuft of hair. 

  


“Goodnight, Pips,” he whispered. 

  


“I’ll be right back.” 

  


“I’ll be waiting.” 

  


He watched her form retreat back into the house and waited a few moments until he was sure she made it upstairs before quietly following in her tracks as far as the sitting room. He opened a seemingly innocuous drawer and retrieved what he was looking for. Grabbing a few more items from the kitchen, he slipped back outside. 

  


When Emilia rejoined him on the garden patio, Kit was struck by her beauty in the fading glow of twilight. Motherhood definitely agreed with her. Although she lost almost all of the baby weight, her hips retained some of the curve she had gained over the last year. Something he certainly wouldn’t complain about. The sun dress she wore clung to her in all the right places. Her skin had a sunkissed glow from the time they spent outside together and she exuded a sense of contentment he’d never seen before. She was writing again for upcoming projects and production on the first television programme from Magical Thinking would begin in the fall. 

  


“You’re staring,” she lightly chided. 

  


“Am I?” 

  


“What are you up to?” 

  


Kit saw her eye the bluetooth speaker and glasses he had gotten from the kitchen. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the playlist he made, thumbing through the songs until he found the right one. 

  


“It’s a beautiful evening. Our daughter’s asleep. I was wondering if you cared to dance with me,” Kit asked and pressed the  _ play _ button. The Beatles ‘Here, There, and Everywhere’ softly began to emanate from the speaker. 

  


“I would love to,” Emilia replied and stepped towards him. 

  


He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her as he slowly started swaying from side to side. 

  


_ To lead a better life _ _   
_ _ I need my love to be here _

_ Here, making each day of the year _ _   
_ _ Changing my life with a wave of her hand _ _   
_ _ Nobody can deny that there's something there _ _   
_ _ There, running my hands through her hair _ _   
_ _ Both of us thinking how good it can be _ _   
_ _ Someone is speaking, but she doesn't know he's there _

 

As they moved together, Kit thought about how the song echoed them and the last year of his life. Ever since he made the conscious decision to be with her, to have someone by his side who supported him in every way, his life had taken a turn for the better. He had hopes and dreams for a future and they all included her. 

  


_ I want her everywhere  
_ _ And if she's beside me I know I need never care  
_ _ But to love her is to need her everywhere  
_ _ Knowing that love is to share  
_ _ Each one believing that love never dies  
_ _ Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there _

_ I want her everywhere _ _   
_ _ And if she's beside me I know I need never care _ _   
_ _ But to love her is to need her everywhere _ _   
_ _ Knowing that love is to share _ _   
_ _ Each one believing that love never dies _ _   
_ _ Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there _

_ I will be there  
_ _ And everywhere  
_ _ Here, there and everywhere _

  


“What’s gotten into you?” Emilia asked as the song ended, fading into ‘In My Life’. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

  


“Can’t a man ask a beautiful woman to dance without her thinking he has ulterior motives?” 

  


“Oh, he can.” 

  


“But you might be right. I do have ulterior motives of sorts.” 

  


He pulled away from her, sliding his fingers down her arms until he caught her hands in his own. 

  


“This might be a bit...rambly, but oh well,” Kit began, taking a deep breath. “Emilia, a year ago we left on a trip to Greece and I never could’ve imagined the way my life would’ve changed. Since that day we’ve scarcely spent a day apart and I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve never experienced that with anyone else and I never want to experience that with anyone else. 

  


“I spent a lot of time feeling like I wasn’t good enough for something or like I didn’t measure up. I had a lot of growing up to do, a lot of work I’ve had to do to even think I could deserve you.” 

  


“You’ve always deserved me,” Emilia said, cupping his cheek. “You’ve never not been good enough for me.” 

  


“Let me finish, love. Last spring, I didn’t know if I’d ever want something like this again, but over the last year you’ve made me realize that I’ve  _ never _ had this before. I didn’t know how good it could be or what it could be like. I don’t think I could live without it now. Any when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” 

  


“Oh my God, Kit…” 

  


“Emilia,” he said, reaching into his pocket and dropping down to his knee. He opened the box that held his grandmother’s ring and held it up. “Will you marry me?”  

  


“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Of course I’ll marry you!” 

  


“It doesn’t have to be right away or soon. I don’t want to freak you out or anything. I just want you to know how serious I am about us. This is it for me whether it happens next month, next year, or in five years. I just-.” 

  


“Kit stop! I said yes! Get up, please.” 

  


“Right!” he said, scrambling to his feet. He carefully took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Emilia’s trembling finger. 

  


She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. Once upon a time, she hadn’t been sure about the whole prospect of being married. Kids? Definitely. A wedding and a husband? Not on the top of her list of priorities. But this was different. It took her thirty-three years to realize that a marriage wasn’t about a white dress in a church or a cake. It was just about a person. She had never been keen on the idea of marriage because she had never been with someone she actually wanted to marry. Until now. 

  


“Did you really propose to me with a quote from  _ When Harry Met Sally? _ ” she asked him a bit later. She was sitting on his lap, watching the fireflies dance over the garden. 

  


“I thought you hadn’t noticed.” 

  


“Of course I noticed. You know, I think that was the deciding factor.” 

  


“Well then it was worth watching it the other day while you and your mum were at the Same You board meeting.” 

  


“Tell me about this,” Emilia said, holding her hand up to admire the ring in the moonlight. 

  


“This,” Kit replied, brushing his thumb over the diamond. “Was my grandmother’s ring. I asked my mum for it back in April.” 

  


“You’ve had it all this time?” 

  


“Yeah...well, I had to get it sized and then I wanted to wait for the perfect moment. Proposing right after Pippa was born just seemed too cliché.” 

  


“When did you decide on tonight?” 

  


“This morning.” 

  


“Get out.” 

  


“I’m serious. I was flipping through my journal and when I found the list I made a year ago something just felt right about it. Going on that trip to Greece seems really symbolic now. And today we’re starting off on a different journey.” 

  


“There’s no one else I’d want to travel with.” 

  


“Here’s to many new journeys and adventures,” Kit said, clinking his glass of seltzer against her champagne flute. 

  


“Here’s to us.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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